


Who Pays The Piper

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Autistic Newt Scamander, Blood Quill, Forced Marriage, M/M, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Marriage Contracts, Multi, Original Percival Graves & Theseus Scamander Friendship, Original Percival Graves Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-10-08 04:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 31,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10378503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After Grindelwald's actions, Graves has lost everything.  The British initially want him sentenced to Azkaban, but agree for him to be offered in political marriage to the Scamander brothers. Graves was married once before, and remembers the abuse he endured then only too well.  Now, he has lost everything, there are two husbands to serve, and he has no way of going home.





	1. A Deal Is Made

**Author's Note:**

> Huge huge thanks goes out to RedFurryDemon (https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFurryDemon/pseuds/RedFurryDemon) who has gone through the entire fic and given it a very detailed beta - fixing punctuation, plot, spelling, and just generally making this so much more awesome.
> 
> Title from the saying "he who pays the piper calls the tune"  
> For the following prompt on the kinkmeme: As a young man Graves was in abusive marriage for political reasons and due to the conditions of the marriage he had to take the abuse his husband loved to dole out without retaliating. Husband got off on having control over Graves who could overpower him in theory but due to the terms of the marriage had to endured the abuse, then the husband died or marriage was dissolved. Determined to never be a victim again Graves set out to become the most BAMF Auror that ever was and never be forced to helplessly endure abuse again.
> 
> Years later he's captured and impersonated by Grindelwald and ironically suffers less in his hands than his first husband's. After he's rescued, rather than being reinstated, Graves is offered in political marriage to Newt or Theseus (or both) to make up for the almost execution of Newt. 
> 
> Graves has lost everything he has worked for and is once again stripped of his freedom and will be at the complete mercy of his new husband. Determined to do his duty Graves puts on a stoic face and enters into the marriage determined to endure whatever humiliations and casual abuse his hew husband will inflict on him.

"It's the best I can do, Percival," Seraphina leaned forwards on her desk, her eyes damp. Percival could tell she was struggling to hold back her tears. They had been friends since Ilvermorny; she was the only one who knew what happened in the three years between him graduating and joining MACUSA. She knew that she was condemning him to his greatest fear.

She reached across the table, taking his hand in hers and squeezing softly.  
"If there was another way, I would take it. But..." her voice faded for a moment and she shook her head. "Azkaban... you'd be driven mad, Percival. You wouldn't stand it. I'd never see you again."  
Her hand squeezed his once more. "And I know you would try to escape. We all know what the punishment for that is, Percival. The British might say they're being merciful, taking your soul rather than executing you, but I can't let my oldest friend face a Dementor's Kiss."

Percival couldn't meet her eyes.  
"What about execution?" he asked the table. Death would be quick. It would be a punishment for what had happened, but it would be over and he wouldn't have to live the nightmare that was awaiting him.  
"It would spark an international incident. I'm sorry, Percival. With Grindelwald still at large...I can't let that happen."

"Understood."  
Percival swallowed, squaring his shoulders and looking up at her. One of the tears had slipped down her face, and she was blinking back more.  
"It won't be like Jauncey," she murmured, and he fought down the flinch that always threatened on hearing that man's name. He tried to remind himself of the truth. Jauncey didn't control him anymore. Jauncey was dead. Percival was Director of Magical Security at MACUSA, the best auror in the Americas, and no one would control him again. 

For so long, that mantra had gotten him through the worst that the world could throw at him. But Grindelwald had stolen his face, and usurped his position. While he had been caged in that cell, suffering from hunger, thirst, and whatever curses Grindelwald threw at him, he reminded himself of his role. That the pain would pass and he would escape. That he would go back to his job and he would be able to rebuild his life and reputation. 

While hiding who he was, Grindelwald had sentenced the brother of the British Head Auror to death, and that wasn't something the British would take lightly. 

"You have to sign the contract," Seraphina said softly, pushing the parchment across the desk with a quill balanced on top of it. For a moment Percival was amused by the British habit of sticking to the old ways, before he realised that there was no inkwell for the quill. He examined it curiously, then worked out what it was. 

He gritted his teeth as he placed his left hand on the parchment, holding it steady. He placed the nib of the quill on the paper, and carefully signed his name, making sure that his hand didn't tremble as red flowed from the tip and his signature was cut into the flesh of his hand.

Seraphina nodded, and gestured to the other place he was expected to sign.  
"Percival Scamander," he wrote out, cursing the family for having such a long surname. The injuries were healing, leaving a red mark on his skin. He put the quill down.

"A delegation from Britain will be arriving in the morning," Seraphina informed him. "I believe that Theseus Scamander will be among them."  
Percival nodded, thinking back to the war, to the young man who had made him laugh. Things were different now.

"I've taken the evening off," Seraphina said after a moment, interrupting his thoughts. "I thought we could go and pack your bag, and share a bottle of firewhiskey."  
Percival smiled at her, trying to hide his fear. It would have been easy to say no, to spend the night hiding in his apartment and dreading the morning. But this was a kindness. Seraphina had found a way to save him from Azkaban.   
"Sounds good."  
He stood up from his chair, and she followed as the marriage contract scuttled away.

"I know you might not be able to write," Seraphina said to him as they walked the short distance to his apartment. "But I've got you some pens and paper."  
She held up a shrunken version. "They'll grow if you hold them between your hands."  
"Thank you."  
Percival placed them in the case, followed by some clothing. He chose a couple of books, adding them to the pile, before stepping back and looking at it. It wasn't much.

In the morning he would leave for England, to be signed over to men who had every reason to hate him, and he didn't know if he would ever step foot on American soil again. Seraphina wrapped an arm around his waist and held out a tumbler of firewhiskey, which he took from her, gulping it down and feeling the heat of the drink burn his throat.


	2. Men From The Ministry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image of the lighter: http://www.toledo-bend.com/VCL/articles/images/LighterHistory_22.JPG

The warmth of the sun eventually drove Percival to open his eyes, and he looked up to see Seraphina asleep on the sofa beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, still in yesterday’s outfit. He waved his hand, summoning a bottle of Hartley’s Hangover Cure from his cupboard, and took a sip. Head clearing, he shook Seraphina’s shoulder.  
"Hey," he said softly, holding out the purple potion. She reached for it and took a gulp, before using her wand to change her clothing. He walked into the bedroom, letting her change in peace.

His room looked emptier than usual, and the reason for it hit him suddenly. He remembered now what was happening today. He pulled on his smartest suit, eyes lingering on the monogram of his handkerchief. He wasn’t a Graves anymore. He kept the handkerchief though, so he had a reminder as proof of who he had been.

Seraphina was waiting in the doorway, and he picked up his suitcase and walked to her. She squeezed his hand and then smiled sadly.  
"Good luck."  
"You too," he murmured, watching as she straightened, her professional expression falling into place like a mask. It wasn’t far to MACUSA, but they apparated in together. They were among the very few who had the privilege to do so – though Percival knew he would be losing that privilege today.

In the entrance hall to MACUSA he could see the British delegation – Theseus Scamander was there, along with three other aurors and the British Minister of Magic. All of them were wearing robes. Seraphina gave his hand one last squeeze, and then walked over to greet them, leaving Percival alone. He headed up to the Major Investigations Department, wanting to ensure that Henery was ready to take over as Director.

As he walked, he could feel the eyes of everyone upon him. He could hear them murmuring among themselves. Only a few weeks ago he had been a prisoner of that madman, and wizarding society had nearly been exposed. Now people looked at him with pity or with anger, not respect.

He walked into Major Investigations, and was startled to find the aurors that he worked with daily standing smartly in a line, as though waiting for inspection. His lips twitched slightly in a smile, and he walked along, greeting each of them, thanking them for their work.

It was Tina who broke rank first, running forwards to wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly. He rested his hands on her back.  
"It wasn’t your fault," she said, and Percival nodded, patting her on the shoulder. She leaned into the touch, eyes lit with fire. He knew she felt this was unjust, and there was no way he could soothe her thoughts on the matter. Tina was always just, and there was no justice here.  
"I know. But I have to make it right. It’s okay, Tina."  
He paused. "I expect all of you to keep up the good work in my absence."

There was laughter at that, and the rest of them crowded around, embracing him and shaking hands with him.   
Kathern grinned brightly at him, and pressed a small vial full of vivid blue potion into his hand.  
"I thought we confiscated that," Percival asked, staring at her.  
"We did," Kathern agreed, pointing towards the vial. "Raid on Sandy Hook Docks. This is one of the weaker aphrodisiacs-"  
"I don’t want that," Percival insisted. "Henery? Make sure she puts that back in the store room."  
"Yes, sir," Henery answered, stepping forwards and holding out a lighter, engraved with the MACUSA logo. "From all of us, sir."

Percival turned it over in his hands and smiled a little, nodding and slipping it into his pocket.  
"Thank you."  
He felt Starling move a little too close, something slipping into his pocket, but he didn’t look. Tina held up two cufflinks, each emblazoned with the MACUSA eagle.  
"Good luck charms, sir. Kathern and Starling put protective enchantments on them."  
"Thank you."  
Percival swallowed. He knew he wasn’t meant to take magical objects with him, but he couldn’t refuse this gift. He removed the plain cufflinks he was wearing, slipping them into his pants’ pocket, and placed the new ones on. 

"It’s time, sir," Henery said softly, reaching out and shaking Percival’s hand. "It’s been an honour to work with you. I’ll do what I can to take care of the department."  
"I’ll read about you in the papers, I’m sure," Percival promised. "It’s been an honour."

He walked to the Pentagram Office, his aurors behind him. He stepped inside the large room, relieved that the New York Ghost had agreed a deal with the Daily Prophet to get photographs from the British ceremony. It meant there were no cameras as he stepped forwards to the centre of the room, towards the British delegation.

He recognised the British aurors. Theseus of course, then Bulstrode, Abbott, Nott – the purebloods were out in force. It made sense, he supposed, a chance for the British to show their superiority.

He felt nauseous as he made his way towards the chair where Seraphina was sitting, looking composed and glamorous. He bowed smartly to her, then turned to the British Minister. His hand shook a little as he drew his ebony wand and handed it over. His fingers clenched, and he felt suddenly exposed.

Scamander stepped forwards, using his wand to search for any magical objects that Percival had on him. It was the same spell used to search those bound for Azkaban, and Percival wondered if he had left it too late to engineer a change of destination. He felt the slight heat of revealed magic at his wrists and in his pocket – from the cufflinks, the lighter, and from whatever Starling had slipped him. But after a moment Scamander stepped back.  
"He’s clean."

Seraphina was speaking, but the blood was pounding too loudly in his ears for him to focus on her words, aware only of his lack of wand. He could do wandless magic, so wasn’t as crippled as most wizards would be in this situation, but he still felt sick, remembering Grindelwald taking his wand and his face; remembering Jauncey. He concentrated on staying on his feet.

"It is time, Mister Graves," one of the British aurors – Nott, he suspected, from the way the man looked at him in disgust if nothing else – prompted. A six-sided portkey was brought out, and the four British aurors and their Minister put their hands on it. Percival gripped the final side, eyes scanning the room, taking one last look at the office as the air around him swirled and he was swept from America.


	3. Preparations Are Finished

The Ministry of Magic was nothing like MACUSA. Situated beneath Whitehall, the cavernous spaces were immense in a way that the American building was not. Percival glanced around where they had been deposited by the Portkey, and found himself standing in the atrium, glancing down at the dark wood floor and then up at the peacock blue ceiling. Floo fireplaces lined the walls and people were rushing in and out of them, focused on their own jobs. The minister led the group to one of the elevators, which rose up to the very top level. Here the floor was covered with a thick purple carpet, and the walls lined with wood. It was quiet.

"Scamander, I believe your brother is waiting for you. Can you fetch Graves his robes?" the Minister said, and Scamander nodded, walking away down the corridor and leaving Percival standing with the three other aurors and the Minister.  
"Graves," the Minister addressed him, "our American officer from the International Magical Office of Law will be ready to sign the registers with you. The ceremony takes place in an hour."  
He turned away with the air of someone who had somewhere far more important to be.

The auror that Percival thought was Nott turned towards him.  
"Your mother was Muggle-born, was she not?"  
"What of it?" Percival spat. He might have been wandless, but he was not going to stand here and listen to his parents being insulted.  
"My brother wanted to know. Twenty-eight then. Shame. The Scamanders had a good history."

"Did I manage to disqualify us from your brother’s little project?" Theseus asked, walking back with a bundle of fabric. He pressed it to Percival’s arms. "Good," he smirked at Nott and then grinned at Percival. "See you in a bit."  
With that he walked off, and Bulstrode led Percival to an empty room.  
"You can change in there."  
He swept out, leaving Percival alone.

A quick glance out into the corridor confirmed that both Bulstrode and Nott were guarding the door. Percival wished he could disapparate. He glanced at the cloth he had been handed, and realised one major problem – he had no idea of how you were meant to wear robes.

He couldn’t help wondering whether this was somehow Theseus’s revenge for Percival laughing at the fact he had worn robes for school. He untangled the mess of fabric – it was deep crimson, with teal edging and bronze embroidery swirling up the sides. It was beautiful, just entirely impractical for anything.

Trying to dress could wait for a minute – first of all, he needed to find out what it was that Starling had slipped him. He hoped Starling hadn’t taken Kathern’s lead and given him some aphrodisiac – today was bad enough without being drugged. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small matchbox made of gold, with a silver drawer inside of it. He recognised it instantly – Starling had confiscated it from some smugglers the year before. For a moment he thought he would have to tell his aurors off for raiding his office, before remembering that they were no longer his aurors, and that it was Henery’s office now.

He turned the matchbox over in his hands and then opened it. It was empty aside from a small piece of paper.  
_Let us know if you need help_ , it said, in Henery’s writing. He swallowed and put the matchbox down on the table, knowing that his aurors had its partner. Anything he placed inside would travel to them, and vice versa. He wasn’t abandoned. He blinked back tears of relief that threatened, hoping he could somehow hide this from both of his husbands.

He turned his attention to the robes, stretching the fabric out. He shrugged off his suit jacket, leaving the rest of his clothing where it was, then ran his fingers over the embroidered fabric. He worked out where the sleeves were, and put his arms into them. The fabric fell over his shoulders to the floor. He glanced at the robes, straightening the front of them and making sure it looked good. If he had had a pen he would send a note back, but he couldn’t see one anywhere. He searched through the desk drawer and found a quill and a bottle of ink. He sat in the chair, turning the paper over and dipping the nib into the ink. It splodged when he first put the feather down, splashing onto the inside of his robe.

He rubbed at the stain but made it worse. As it was in the lining, he knew he would just have to hope no one saw. He picked the quill up and he tried again after a moment, managing to scratch out _Thank you_ onto the scrap of paper. He blew on it until the ink had dried, and then put it back into the matchbox, knowing his aurors would find it safely. He slipped the matchbox back into his pocket.

There was nothing else to do but sit and wait to be called. His mind wandered back to being eighteen, waiting to marry Jauncey. He hadn’t been sure about the older man, had been a little frightened, but his father had made it clear to him that it would be necessary to secure their family’s future and to prevent MACUSA ending up in a state of civil war.

_He had sat on the desk, swinging his legs a little, checking that his tie was straight and waiting to be called into the hall. His family and Jauncey’s were there, along with a few others. This was a marriage to help MACUSA, and the emotions and fears that twisted in Percival’s chest didn’t matter. What happened next wouldn’t matter in the eyes of MACUSA as long as it settled the arguments that had been bubbling beneath the surface. A Graves had always been in the service of MACUSA. For Percival, this was how he would serve, and how he felt didn’t matter._

It didn’t matter now either. He was marrying to keep the peace between Britain and America. Theseus had never been cruel back in the war. There was a chance that no cruelty had set in. But Grindelwald had tried to kill Theseus’s brother wearing Percival’s face, and that wasn’t something that could easily be forgiven.

A knock to the door startled him, and he stumbled to his feet.

Nott nodded at him, and gestured for Percival to follow him along the corridor. The door opened to a large room, which reminded him a little of the Pentagram Office – but here there was mahogany on the walls and a sapphire carpet on the floor. He looked up to the far end of the room.

Both Scamander brothers stood there. The older was dressed in crimson robes that were edged with gold, and his brother was dressed in a long black coat with yellow embroidered creatures dancing over the cloth. Newt Scamander had his head down, gazing at the floor, as Theseus Scamander stared straight across the room towards Percival.

Percival wanted to run.

He took a step forwards.


	4. The Ceremony

Every step forwards brings Percival closer to his fate – the two British men standing there. He hears the clicking of a camera's shutters, knows that tomorrow morning images from this ceremony will be splashed across the front page of every wizarding newspaper. No longer will he merely be the American wizard who fell to Grindelwald. Now he will be the American wizard handed over like a bargaining chip, the wizard expelled from the only land he had ever considered to be home as punishment. The wizard who was trading Azkaban for something worse.

He feels sick; the fear is worse than it was for Jauncey. Back then he had no comprehension of what might lie ahead. He wasn't a virgin, had fumbled his way through Ilvermorny with a number of handsome men and beautiful women who he studied alongside. But he had never had a serious relationship. He hadn't known back then that Jauncey had thought he was a virgin. Hadn't known what the man would do to him when he found out the truth.

He shudders, the room seeming to spin. He is in the Ministry of Magic. Jauncey is dead. The men he is walking towards are Theseus and Newt Scamander. He focuses on that.

Newt Scamander seems more interested in the floor and the patterns on his own robes than in Percival. He doesn't lift his head, fingers on his left hand brushing over the embroidery. Theseus is looking at Percival, a faint frown creasing his forehead. Percival tries not to let the fear twisting in his gut show; he must have done something wrong, angered him somehow. He hadn't even married the men yet and he was already transgressing.

He shifts his weight slightly, managing to move the silver matchbox so he can feel it pressing against his skin. It is his one link to his old life, his one way of conveying messages to the aurors he regards as his own family. He is standing before the two brothers now, his heart thudding in his chest.

The American officer is standing close by, waiting to sign the register when the time comes. To seal Percival's fate. Percival hasn't had a chance to look at the terms of the marriage yet; he isn't sure he wants to see his future written out on the page when he already knows enough. Better not to know, to find out by learning. If he had been given a contract of what Jauncey wanted, he doubted he would have survived. This was better. 

It is the Minister of Magic himself who will marry them, and he is dressed in the finest robes of all. Percival stands, waiting, hearing the camera take another photograph of him. He holds his head high, not wanting the world to see him looking afraid. That wouldn't do. He might be losing the Graves name, but he could still damage his family's reputation further by showing fear. A long cushion appears on the step in front of the Minister, and it is Theseus who kneels first, on the left-hand side. Newt mirrors his brother on the right. Percival kneels in the middle, focusing on looking calm, his jaw set firmly. He can't allow the terror that swirls to overwhelm him. If he does, he knows he might pass out in front of the assembled crowd, and that would be unthinkable.

***

The Minister stepped forwards, beginning to recite words. The English ceremony was more formal than the American one, which startled Percival a little. The Minister slipped into Latin before returning to English, as he set out expectations and hopes for their future. Percival couldn't bring himself to listen to it.

When the time came, he stood, Newt and Theseus on either side of him. It was far too late to run. Theseus winked at him and smiled again, taking the first vow.  
"I, Theseus Scamander, take you, Percival Graves, to be my husband. I will love and cherish you, and ensure that no bombs knock you flying. I will stand by your side in the trenches and in the street, and I promise to not always steal your breakfast. I will protect you with my magic as you have renounced your own, and I swear I will not tease you more than you deserve." 

There were a few laughs at that comment, but Percival wasn't listening fully, too busy trying not to remember Jauncey's snarl as he had told him exactly what it was that he deserved. With Jauncey he had officially kept his wand. The world would know he had lost it this time. He realised a few seconds later that he had missed the start of Newt's vow.  
"...my husband. I will love and cherish you, staying by your side. I will protect you with my magic as you have renounced your own, and I will..." Newt's voice faltered for a moment before he continued, "I will do all I can to be a good husband and treat you as you deserve."

A little relieved that Newt had stuck to the traditional vows for a marriage of this kind, Percival spoke his own when the time came.  
"I, Percival Graves, take you, Theseus Scamander, and you, Newt Scamander, to be my husbands. I will do all I can to ensure your happiness, and I will love, honour and obey you with my body, mind, and soul. I will care for you, and treat you as you deserve."  
He fell silent, and the Minister spoke a little longer. Percival's mind drifted, and he was called back to reality by Newt's lips brushing his cheek, and then Theseus leaning in.

Theseus kissed passionately, the way he had done in the war, when Percival had been a junior auror. Percival yielded as cameras photographed the two of them. Theseus pulled away, the same brilliant grin on his face. The one Percival remembered. Since leaving Ilvermorny, he had only kissed two people, and the other one was dead.

They turned to face the cameras and the assembled crowd, before Theseus guided him over to the marriage certificates. The quill there was a vivid blue, and Percival cursed the British rejection of pens. He signed his new name as neatly as he could.  
"Want to go home, Perce?" Theseus asked, his eyes sparkling.

Percival nodded. It would be best to get it over with.


	5. The First Night

The three of them walked out of the Ministry of Magic. No one stopped them, although a few knowing glances were exchanged among the people they passed. Theseus walked at the front, his arm around Newt's shoulder. Percival noticed that Newt was a fraction taller than his brother, despite the number of times Theseus had insisted on referring to the younger man as his little brother.

They didn't apparate back, which surprised Percival slightly. He had never mastered wandless apparition, so he was relying on side-alongs for the forseeable future. But walking through the night like this, seeing the brothers whispering to each other ahead of him, was just one more way of prolonging the torture.

It made sense, he supposed. He'd carried out enough interrogations in his time. Once the pain started, it was limited. Even the Cruciatus Curse – it might have been the worst pain that could be experienced, but the thought of it could be more terrifying. Taking a moonlight stroll back to Theseus's apartment emphasized who was in control, and gave time for the fear to build. His skin felt almost itchy with terror, and he started considering if he could hex himself somehow, put off the inevitable - but he knew that such an action would be viewed as shameful. He had already disappointed his ancestors enough. He would accept whatever came tonight, and whatever happened the night after, and the night after that, and he wouldn't fight or scream or run. 

He was a Graves. The certificates might say Scamander now, but he could still face his fate with courage.

Theseus was lost in whispering with his brother, didn't seem to have anything to say to Percival. Percival stayed close, and he glanced over the building as they approached it. The place was heavily warded, and his stomach twisted as he realised the wards were designed both to stop anyone from coming in and to stop anyone going out.

On the top step, Theseus opened the door, and then signalled both Newt and Percival inside. Walking in, Percival felt the magic brush against his skin.  
"You're recognised now," Theseus said. "I'm afraid we only have two rooms. There's the one Newt uses when he crashes, which you can have, and Newt will sleep in with me."  
He gestured down the corridor. "Kitchen is there, parlour is past it, and then this way we have a billiards room, and the two bedrooms. Newt's room is ...well, it's tidier than it was last night."

Percival nodded, not sure he trusted himself to speak. He followed the two of them along to the end of the corridor, where two doors waited.  
"This is our room," Theseus explained, pushing open the door. For a moment Percival caught a glimpse of garish crimson and gold. Newt darted into that room. "And this is yours."

The bedroom he was faced with had a neatly made bed, and a desk. There was a small table beside the bed, and a wardrobe in the corner. It was a perfectly serviceable room, far nicer than Percival had known in the army. The only issue was the decor.

The walls were covered in pieces of parchment, drawings on them dancing across the pages. Sometimes, the parchment wasn't in place and instead Newt had written on the wall itself. On the floor were a number of nests and a few bones, and hanging from the ceiling there were three different cocoons. The bed had a headrest that could be used to attach restraints. There was a green patch beside the bed, and as Percival watched its eyes opened and it moved a little higher up the wall.  
"Scamander?" he asked, pointing to it. "I think you've got a bundimun issue."   
"One of my brother's pets, I'm afraid. He has rather a lot of them. It hasn't destroyed the house yet, Newt feeds it daily with some sawdust. We tried moving it but it refused. Now that Newt's in my room it might make its way across the corridor."

Percival nodded. He had read about Newt's affinity for animals, he just hadn't expected it to be quite so overwhelming.  
"I think I'd better let you get unpacked," Theseus said after a moment. "I'm sure you're tired, transatlantic Portkeying always exhausts me. If you need anything during the night, you know where we are."

"Thank you," Percival managed to say the words despite his fear, despite the bile that burned in his throat at the thought of how every kindness would make him more indebted to them. He wondered whether the state of the bedroom was a sign he wouldn't be expected to stay, or whether it was just another trick. It was good of them to give him a bed, and let him sleep in it.

Theseus left, and Percival found himself standing beside the bed. He unpacked what little he had into the drawers, placing the books he had brought him in the bookshelf. He took the aurors' leaving gifts and hid the four of them in his suitcase, before sliding it beneath the bed. He placed his shoes in front of the case, careful to line the toes up with the edge of a plank of wood so he could tell if they had been moved.

There was silence from the other rooms. He shed his robes easily, finding that a much simpler task than putting them on. He hung them up manually on a hanger in the closet, finding that he was already tired. After a lifetime of using magic to achieve the goals he wanted, he was surprised by how exhausting even simple work was.

He lay down on the bed, wearing only his pants. He lay on top of the sheet – it would be easier that way. He stared up at the ceiling and waited.

He suspected they would knock on the door to summon him when they were ready. He doubted they'd use this room – it was only a single bed, but he couldn’t be certain. He wondered if there was anything else he should have done. He glanced around the room, and noticed that the bundimun was now moving towards the ceiling. The room was dark. He strained his ears in the hope he would catch them approaching; it would be easier to hide his fear if he knew they were arriving.

He tried to breathe slowly, to keep his heart rate from racing. This was nothing he hadn't survived before. He heard the faintest of mutterings from the room beside his own, and then there was silence.

He lay awake, waiting for them to summon him.

It was only as dawn broke that he realised they might have expected him to come to them.


	6. Breakfast

It was too late now to correct his mistake. Newt and Theseus were probably asleep, and he couldn't risk waking them. He turned so his back was towards the door, trying to distract himself by deciphering the notes that had been scrawled on the paper and waiting for a more reasonable hour.

By the time the clock in the hall chimed half past six, Percival had learned rather more about the reproduction cycles of graphorns than he ever wanted to know, and there had still been no footsteps in the corridor outside. A glance up at the bundimun showed that it had moved into the far corner, and seemed to be asleep, its eyes closed. Percival sat up and reached for his wand, only for reality to crash down upon him.

He stood up, walking to the wardrobe and pulling out a shirt. He might have been able to summon it, but he was trying to minimise his use of magic in case it wasn't allowed. The wards that were wrapped around this house, around this room, could easily be set up to see if he used wandless magic. Until he had permission, he couldn't risk it. Not after last night's failure.

He paused by his shoes, checking that they were still in place. No one had touched his case in the night, and his most treasured possessions were safe. Barefoot, he made his way out into the kitchen.

Theoretically, cooking breakfast should not have posed too much of a challenge. He had been cooking for himself ever since Jauncey's death, and had cooked meals for the older man when they had been married. In practice though, it was surprisingly difficult to force his body through the motions of cooking and try to quieten the thoughts that swirled through his head. He didn't know what the Scamander brothers ate, but looked through their cupboards and did the best with what he could find.

He was just finishing plating the last of the pancakes when Theseus emerged from the bedroom. Percival smiled a little to see how Theseus's hair stuck up in all directions, his bare torso spattered with freckles and scars. It reminded him of the war, of hidden kisses and secret laughter.  
"You made breakfast?" Theseus asked, and Percival focused on where he was. He nodded smartly. The easy companionship and meaningless affection of the war were gone now.  
"Pancakes with maple syrup and banana," he explained. "Sorry, I wasn't sure which food I could use."  
"That sounds great," Theseus answered. "Newt's just checking all his creatures, he'll be along shortly."

Percival nodded, his disobedience the previous night hanging between them as he poured them tea, leaving a glass of water for himself. He wasn't sure if they expected him to eat with them and didn't want to make the wrong choice. He had already failed in so many ways. His gut twisted as he pictured Jauncey leaning in, one hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair back behind Percival's ear. He could hear the voice echoing in his head. _Tell me what you've done wrong today. Tell me how I should punish you_. He felt heat burn his hand, pictured it being held into the fire.  
"Perce!" a British voice snapped at him, and Percival was surprised to see that he was seated at a table, that there was a broken cup in front of him. Percival stared at it in confusion.

" _Reparo_ ," Theseus murmured, tapping the cup with his wand and then reaching out for Percival's hand. It was all he could do not to pull his hand away as Theseus examined it, turning it over. "It doesn't look too bad. You've got to be careful. What happened?"  
"I... it slipped," Percival said softly, staring down at the red skin on his hand. "I think the timezones are... disorientating me."

"Newt will have some ointment to put on that," Theseus said after a moment. "Stay there-" with that Theseus left and Percival was again alone with his thoughts. He had to focus. He had lost where he was for a moment, and that was dangerous. It could anger Theseus and leave Percival trapped in his own past. He tried to calm himself, mentally listing off all the aurors he had worked with. Kathern. Tina. Henery. Starling. He wouldn't let himself forget. 

Theseus returned, his brother trailing behind. Newt was dressed in a grey and yellow set of pyjamas, his hair even scruffier than his brother's. He walked over cautiously, a bottle held in his hand. He sat down opposite Percival, and Percival held his hand out obediently.

When the green mixture touched his hand, the pain eased a little, and Newt's forehead creased a little with concentration as he tried to rub it into the skin, the scald fading. As Newt worked, Percival saw a small green stick clamber up from Newt's pocket to his shoulder.  
"That... must be Pickett," he said after a moment, in a desperate attempt to end the silence.  
"It is," Newt agreed. "Pickett, this is Percival... Percival, this is Pickett, I'm afraid he's rather shy."  
The bowtruckle responded by sticking out its tongue and slipping back into Newt's pocket.

"It's... good to see him," Percival said after a moment.  
Newt nodded, and released his hand.   
"There won't be any marks."  
"Just not used to carrying cups I guess," Percival said softly.  
Theseus waved his wand to float the food and drink to the table, and they began to eat, Newt talking to his brother about the fwooper's latest brood.

Percival tried not to think about the fact that the pancakes had gone cold. He wanted to ask what would happen today, how he was expected to behave, what they wanted him to do. Even Jauncey had given him a list of demands – demands that Percival had failed to meet. This time, he wasn't at all sure what they wanted. He would have no choice but to fail.

"Perce, would you like to go shopping later?" Theseus asked as he sent the plates to the sink to wash themselves up. "I know you don't have much with you."  
Despite his concern about ending up greater in their debt, he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Thank you all for the amazing feedback this has been getting)


	7. A Shopping Trip

"We'll get you some clothes," Theseus said with a smile. "Uh, what else do you need? Books? Writing supplies? I know you've always been fond of letters, and you've got a lot of people to write to now. Anything else?"

Percival shook his head, not mentioning the papers that Seraphina had given him. Those were secrets, things he wanted to hold on to in case Theseus changed his mind. Having more possessions meant that there were more privileges to lose. More ways for them to hurt him. But it might mean they didn't take his case, didn't find what he had hidden away.  
"That sounds more than generous."  
"What are friends for?" Theseus shrugged. "You'd do the same for me, Perce. Seriously, if it was up to me, you'd have been allowed to bring a lot more with you than you were."

Percival thought of the heat of magic against his skin, revealing the objects he had hidden. He tensed despite himself, waiting for Theseus to lash out, or worse – to demand those few things he had brought which he should never have been allowed to bring in the first place. Theseus just smiled that brilliant smile, the one he remembered from the war.  
"Go and get your shoes and coat, it's cold out there," Theseus prompted it gently, but Percival had heard enough over his lifetime to recognise an order when he was given one.

He headed back to his room, trying not to listen to Theseus and Newt talking behind him. He crouched to check on those precious objects. The cufflinks were nestled in the lining, the lighter beside it. The matchbox was in the main body of the case, but after a moment he decided he wanted to move it. He opened it and found a small note. He unfolded it.  
 _How did you ever cope with this mad house?_ Henery had written. 

Percival picked a quill up from the desk, and wrote out a reply.   
_Top Tips for auror wrangling:_  
 _1\. Deadlines - lie about them so that work that's a day late is in on time._  
 _2\. Listen, and find yourself a good deputy._  
 _3\. Provide baked goods._ He folded it up and posted it into the box and closed it. The note would return to Henery. Then he put his shoes on, lining the box up with the floorboards, placing a sock against the suitcase; he would know if anyone had been there. The bundimun eyed him from the wall as he carefully put the matchbox on a top bookshelf, and hid the papers between a couple of books.

Percival wasn't aware of any case where a bundimun could be used as a spy, but it still made him self-conscious. He realised then that he had taken a little too long. He put his shoes on and raced downstairs, already waiting to be punished. Theseus held his hand out for him.  
"I'll apparate us both there." 

Percival slipped in beside Theseus and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were in the middle of a busy market, unlike anything Percival knew from America. The streets thronged with people wearing a variety of robes of different colours, and stalls out on the street sold powdered unicorn horn, phoenix feather, and fwooper egg. A shop sold robes, and he eyed the window displays curiously.

"I'm guessing you're more comfortable in suits?" Theseus asked.  
Percival nodded silently.  
"That's fine then. We've got the set of robes I had made in Ilvermorny colours, those will do for any kind of emergency, but if you're more comfortable in suits, then suits we can do."  
He smiled brightly, and headed to one of the nearest shops.

It took a while to find everything that Theseus wanted to buy. Theseus had charmed the bags so they were nearly weightless, and Percival found British currency more complex than the Dragot. However, he couldn't avoid noticing how much Theseus was paying. Every purchase meant that there was more he would have to pay back. He had no way of knowing what they would want him to do to repay them. He was bought three suits, seven shirts, some writing paper, and some pens rather than quills.   
"Anything else you need?"   
Percival shook his head. He didn't want to ask any more of him. This was already too much.

Theseus paused.   
"Any food you want?"  
"What we've got is fine. I'm happy to cook..." Percival said quickly. "And I can help keep the house tidy."  
He knew that there wasn't enough that he could do to pay back for all of this, but he had to try something.  
"You don't need to worry," Theseus said with a smile. "I swear my cooking has improved since my army days."  
"It's no problem..." Percival murmured, his voice shaking a little. If he couldn't cook, there would be very little he could do to repay them. He shuddered. His mind drifted a little, and he could feel strong hands in his hair, pushing him down. He could smell smoke, hear laughter-

A hand on his arm made him jump, and he looked up to see Theseus standing in front of him.  
"You with me, Perce?"  
"Yes."  
"War?" Theseus asked in a tone that made Percival think that he knew a little of what it was like to lose where you were as memories overwhelmed you.  
"Something like that," Percival agreed.  
"Let's get home. It's been a long day. You take the bags and unpack, and I'll call you for dinner."

Percival nodded, and Theseus apparated him away. They landed in the front room of the house, where Newt was sitting surrounded by notes, a handful of winged snakes on the floor around him, and his bowtruckle in his hair.

Newt jumped slightly to see them, making the snake-things hiss.   
"Hey."  
"Hey-" Theseus walked over to his brother. "How are the notes going?"  
"Getting there. I think someone ate some of them," Newt complained. 

Seeing he wasn't needed, Percival headed back to his room. He opened the doorway and froze when he saw that the sock he had left carefully placed on the suitcase had been moved. He walked towards it, pulling the suitcase from the bed, and nearly throwing up at what he found.

The case was empty.


	8. A Conversation

The room seemed to spin, but he made himself get to his feet, to check on the top bookshelf. His matchbox was still there. His most precious possession was safe for now. If he lost that, he didn't know what he would do. It was still there. But the lighter that he had been given by his aurors, the cufflinks which had been layered with protective charms – those were gone.

He sat down on the bed, trying to stave off the terror that was racing in his head. He didn't know what choice to make: if he should go and beg for forgiveness, admit his sins, or if he should instead carry on without mentioning it. Let the Scamander brothers dictate the situation, and let them decide how and when he could earn his possessions back. Trying to act now would be presumptuous. Trying to pre-empt them could earn more punishment... But he didn't know what he had done wrong.

He felt angry. It wasn't fair. That was the overwhelming thought that was hitting him right now. How unfair this situation was, that he was being punished and didn't know what he had done wrong. Didn't know how to fix it. He would do anything that they asked for if it meant that he could have kept those things. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment, to mourn. It was weak, to break like this, but he couldn't fight it. Not after everything that had already happened. He was far from home, in a country he didn't know, faced with rules he didn't understand.

Memories of the past swamped him. He remembered Jauncey holding his wand, taking it for safe-keeping, telling him he wouldn't really need it, not now. That he wasn't ever going to be like the rest of the Graves family, that he wasn't a warrior or an auror – he was just a pretty little face to make use of however Jauncey wished. He drew his knees to his chest, his heart racing.

A knock on the door startled him, and he tried to remember what he was meant to have got done today. Nothing came to mind immediately, which meant he had probably done it. Not that would matter – if Jauncey wanted to make him suffer, he would find a reason for it. He would always have a reason for blood if he wanted it. The door swung open, and there was a man there. His first thought was that it wasn't Jauncey, and he felt sick, forcing himself to relax, to uncurl. 

"Perce?" the man asked in a familiar voice, and Percival frowned, realising it was Theseus. Jauncey was dead. Theseus was his husband now. "You okay?"  
"I…" Percival couldn't bring himself to say yes. Couldn't lie to his husband about something like this. "What can I do to get them back?" That was the most important thing to him at that moment.  
Theseus looked at him blankly, frowning.  
"Hey, Perce… you haven't unpacked even, you okay?" he walked towards the bed and crouched in front of him. "Perce… what's wrong?"

Percival shook his head. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't explain, just had to hope for forgiveness, for mercy. He doubted that he would get it, though. Not with Theseus feigning ignorance.  
"What do you need back?" Theseus asked.  
Percival hesitated for a moment. The lighter was the leaving gift he had been given, but the cufflinks were charmed warm with magic, and were meant to keep him safe. They were his choice, if he had to choose.  
"My MACUSA cufflinks," he answered, making himself confess. "They were in my suitcase."

Theseus crouched down, looking at the suitcase beneath the bed, his forehead creasing in thought.  
"These cufflinks, they weren't shiny, were they?"  
"I wasn't going to wear them. They… they were a gift," he whispered.  
Theseus shook his head, standing up.  
"Look, I don't mind where you got them, or who they were from. You wear them as much as you want. I just want to know, were they shiny?"  
"Yes," Percival admitted, a little confused. He didn't see why it would be that that Theseus was worried about. 

Theseus swore softly under his breath, then smiled in a way that didn't quite meet his eyes.  
"I will go and get them for you. Dinner's nearly ready, but I'm guessing you want those back before you eat?"  
Percival managed a nod, and Theseus left the room. 

Percival wanted to curl up beneath the blankets and hide from the world, but he couldn't do that. He was representing MACUSA, he had to give a good impression. He couldn't let Theseus see him as being weak. 

He tried to focus on the paper he had hidden, and that which Theseus gave him. He could write to his aurors. Kathern would have to be priority – given her lack of respect for rules she didn't like, she'd probably visit if she didn't receive reassurance that he was alright, and the last thing he needed was for her to get into trouble. Tina would need a letter too – the reports about the Grindelwald incident had said that she and Newt had become good friends, so he would make sure she had no reason to worry. Henery would need encouragement about leading the team. Seraphina wasn't an auror, but she was an old friend. She was the one who understood his past.

He was brought from his thoughts by a knock on his door, and Newt walked in, one hand holding out the cufflinks, and the other pinning a large wriggling ball of dark fur to Newt's chest. The ball of fur gazed at Percival with large brown eyes.  
"Here," Newt held out the two cufflinks, and Percival took them gratefully.  
"Thank you," he whispered. He didn't know what would be the price of keeping them, but he had been given them back and he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

"I'm sorry," Newt mumbled, his gaze looking over Percival's left shoulder. "I'm afraid that normally I hide polished objects in the bedroom for the niffler to find. He must have seen these and thought it was part of the game…"

Percival quickly put the cufflinks into his shirt, and set the plain ones to one side. There was no point in attempting to hide what he had now that it was known.  
"Thank you," he repeated. He had to show that he was grateful, even if he knew that wouldn't be enough to keep his treasures.

Newt reached out towards him, and Percival felt himself tense slightly. Newt tilted his head to one side.  
"Would you like to be helpful?" he asked softly. Percival nodded, not able to bring himself to speak, but wanting to know what he could do to keep the cufflinks.  
Newt smiled a little. "After dinner would you like to come into the case? I can introduce you to everyone…" his voice trailed off.  
Looking at Newt, Percival could see he was a little afraid, and he didn't know how to respond to that.  
"I would." It might be a way that he could start paying off his debt to the brothers, both for saving his life and for all the kindnesses they had shown him since. The pile had grown so high he needed to start repaying them before it collapsed and smothered him.

Newt flashed a smile, his eyes lighting up, and just for a moment he looked as confident as Theseus had been when they had first met. Then Newt's hesitance was back and he hurried from the room, still clutching the squirming creature.  
"Dinner's ready!" Theseus called, and Percival stood, glancing down at his wrists to check the cufflinks were still there. He left the matchbox where it was, sure it would be safer there than with him.


	9. Being Useful

Percival was hit by the smell of food as he made his way down the stairs. He kept glancing down at his cufflinks. Theseus had shown no sign of knowing about the matchbox, so he had to hope that meant he was going to be able to keep it hidden. The cufflinks could be taken from him if he messed this up, but the matchbox was safe for now.

Theseus waved a hand in greeting, floating the food over to three plates. Percival hesitated but sat down in the third seat, awaiting instructions. It was never good to pre-empt what Jauncey wanted, but if he didn't respond fast enough, he would be punished. With no guidelines of how this was meant to go, the best he could do was stick with what he knew and hope he didn't provoke more trouble.  
"Eat up," Theseus said after a moment and Percival obeyed. He noticed Newt was also eating slowly, and he wondered whether he might have been worried somehow. He would protect others from the wrath of his husbands if he could.

Percival noticed that Newt's plate contained no meat – where he and Theseus had a steak, Newt had some pie that was flavoured with cheese. Percival fought back a flinch. Being punished by losing food was always one of the worst, because the hunger ate away at you; it was even worse if you were still expected to cook. Food might have been a privilege, but it was hard to survive without it. If he hadn't been on such thin ice already, he would have tried to sneak some of the meat he had onto Newt's plate. He couldn't understand it. He was here for Theseus and Newt to take their frustrations out on. Newt shouldn't have been being hurt or deprived of food.

"He's sorry," Newt said as he cut into the pie he was eating. Theseus rolled his eyes, and Percival leaned in a little, waiting to hear more. "He didn't mean to steal the cufflinks."  
"It's alright," Percival said quickly, realising what the conversation was about. "I shouldn't have hidden them." He didn't want Newt getting in trouble because of his mistake. The next moment Theseus leaned over and ruffled his brother's hair, and Newt seemed to relax. Percival wondered if he had somehow misread the situation.

He ate his own meal, and soon Theseus was busy talking to his brother about work. Percival recognised a couple of the names, but generally stayed quiet. Eventually, the food was finished, and Newt beamed at him.  
"Do you still want to come into the case?" Newt asked, sounding hesitant. It was almost as if he thought that Percival could say no.  
"I'd like that," Percival agreed.

Down in the case, Newt came alive, his posture more confident. Percival couldn't help worrying that it was the absence of his brother that helped him. But he remembered Theseus from the war; he knew the older man thought the world of his little brother. He would never hurt him.

Soon those thoughts were pushed away as Newt introduced him to a menagerie of animals, each with their own needs. Percival was determined to learn the information provided. It was a chance to help, to prove his worth and start paying off debts. 

"This is the niffler. You've already met-" Newt gestured towards the round ball of fur from earlier, pointing out the pile of gold and other treasures it was seated upon.  
Percival could see his lighter there. He didn't reach for it, only too aware that this could be a test.  
"I'll make sure he doesn't steal them anymore. He didn't mean to upset you."  
"No harm done," Percival said quickly. "And it's my fault. I shouldn't have had them."

"You're allowed precious things," Newt replied. "Come on now, you haven't met the occamies yet. I really could use your help with feeding them."  
Percival followed, eager to be of use. Newt was patient in explaining each task, and he felt that he was managing to reduce his debt, at least a little.

***

Eventually, the two of them emerged from the case and Newt yawned.  
"Goodnight, Percival. See you tomorrow."  
"Goodnight," Percival answered. 

He wasn't going to make the same mistake as he had the previous night. He waited until he heard footsteps in the hallway, until he knew that the other two were upstairs, and then he made his way to outside their door, listening for any clue of how he should make his appearance.

There was whispering from inside the bedroom, too quiet for him to make out the words. He stood frozen by the doorway. He couldn't bring himself to advance, not when his arrival might be unwanted. He didn't want them seeing him as a whore, as being desperate and needy and pathetic and stupid. But he couldn't retreat either. He was trapped by indecision.

Eventually, his legs gave out beneath him and he sat. He imagined what would happen if Jauncey found him in the hall like this. Tell him he was ungrateful. Remind him that he belonged on the floor. 

He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to steady his breathing. He couldn't go forwards. He couldn't go back.

The sun rose.

Percival quickly dressed and went to make breakfast, plating it up as the others emerged from their bedroom. Theseus smiled, taking over the final bits of the cooking, and eating enthusiastically. He was just cleaning the plates when he saw an owl at the window. Theseus let it in, taking the letter it was carrying and patting the soft feathers on the creature's stomach.  
"Apparently-" he began, and sighed slightly. "I've been called in. There's an emergency, some kind of smuggling involving creatures. Newt, they've asked for you as well. Perce, will you be alright here?"

Relief flowed through Percival. If the other two were out at work, he might be able to snatch a few minutes of rest. There would be some time, no matter how brief, where he didn't have to worry about what might be asked of him next.  
"I'll be fine, thank you. It'll give me some time to tidy."  
"The house isn't that bad," Theseus protested, heading towards the door.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Theseus asked from the doorway. "We can bother Nott some more."  
"I'm sure," Percival answered, trying to smile. "Why does he dislike me anyway?"  
"His brother's been working on a guide to the British pureblood families. Prevent any pollution to the bloodlines and that kind of thing," Theseus said with a laugh. "Only he had narrowed it down to the sacred twenty-nine families, and we go and marry someone with one Muggleborn parent. For their list, you can't have any Muggleborns within two generations of a spouse. It's all nonsense. Absolutely ridiculous. But there are certain families who take it seriously." 

Percival had never considered his mother's blood status before. She was just who she was – a talented witch who had risen through the Ministry to be one of the more important officials involved in the upholding of Rappaport's law. Her early life immersed in No-Maj culture might have helped her with that, but aside from that he never gave it any thought. Even Jauncey had never mentioned it, never criticised him for that.

But the British had their own beliefs and customs, ways for him to fail that he could never dream of. 

Theseus was already half-out of the door. Newt was following him when he paused, reaching into his pocket and picking out one of the occamies, which he placed on the floor near Percival's feet.  
"She doesn't like the Ministry much. She won't be any bother."  
With that he took his brother's hand and apparated away.

Percival reached down to stroke the occamy, who quickly grew to the size of a large domestic cat. She slithered off in the direction of the kitchen.

Percival followed close behind, finding the food for her. He wasn't sure he was allowed to feed her, but he couldn't imagine Newt would want her to be hungry. Quickly he dropped a few of the bugs onto the floor, before returning to the bedroom he had been given.

The bundimun eyed him from its current position above the wardrobe as he sat down on the bed. Exhaustion washed through him like a wave, and he leaned back on the mattress. The others were out at work. No one could harm him, and he hadn't been left with any chores to do. He could rest for a short while, then get on with cleaning the house by hand.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and drifted into a deep sleep. As always, Jauncey was waiting for him in his nightmares.


	10. A Dose of Honesty

After two days without sleep, Percival was exhausted. Even with his nightmares, his body was relieved to be finally granted permission to rest, at least for a few moments. He had intended to only rest for a minute. A brief nap before he began to wash and clean the house. He had noticed that there was some silverware in the kitchen, but that already sparkled in the light. So he wasn't sure whether or not it might need cleaning. In his nightmares, Jauncey shoved his face down, getting him to inspect the candlesticks he was meant to have polished. Percival had tried. He had done all he could to remove the marks that blotched the base, but they remained. It was only after the candlestick was brought down hard on his back, on his leg, that he realised why he had been unable to remove that particular mark. It had been spelled to be immovable.

He shuffled about on the bed, trying to cringe away from his ex-husband's smiling face. He nearly screamed as Jauncey gripped his shoulder, shaking him hard. He bit his lip to hold in the noise, unable to stop a whimper from escaping him. Jauncey's grip didn't relent, but he could hear him speaking. The panic echoing around his brain was too loud for him to listen, but it was quite clear that Jauncey expected him to respond. He swallowed, and finally, reluctantly, opened his eyes.

Theseus Scamander was straddling him on the bed, his eyes wide.  
"Hey... hey, Perce..." Theseus said softly, his hand moving by Percival's side. "Breathe with me. Breathe in... and out... and in..."  
Sleep-addled and disoriented, Percival could do nothing but obey, following his husband's instructions. Eventually his pulse slowed to the extent that the room stopped spinning, and he managed to look calm.  
"Sorry."  
He glanced towards the window and flinched – the sun had nearly set. Far from cleaning the house by hand, he had done nothing but lay in the bed as his exhaustion overwhelmed him.

"No need to apologise, you looked pretty out of it," Theseus said quickly. "I'm sorry. I was going to let you sleep, but... well, you sounded really distressed..." Theseus looked almost guilty, which made no sense. "I know when I have flashbacks to the war, I want to be woken..." he swallowed and shrugged. "But that's not the point now. We wanted to talk to you. And after that... Newt and I really need to talk to you. Take a few minutes to pull yourself together, okay? We'll be in the parlour."

Percival nodded quickly. The punishment would be starting then. He would have made it worse for himself by not tidying, but he had already failed in a dozen different ways, more than even he could remember. Jauncey had never forgotten a transgression, never missed the opportunity to hold it over Percival's head. It was likely Theseus would be the same.

He wondered what he was meant to do before heading downstairs. He didn't want to preempt or guess what might be wanted. He checked his matchbox was still safe, but didn't risk a look inside. He couldn't waste time. To do anything before their punishment would be too presumptuous of him, and might only anger them more. He paused, and then slipped off his suit jacket, hanging it up smartly. He removed his shoes and socks a moment later, leaving him in just his waistcoat, pants and shirt. The waistcoat was fine material. It would be wrong to get blood on it. He unbuttoned it, returning it to the shelf it belonged to, and then made his way across to the room where the brothers were waiting.

Newt smiled to see him, not commenting on his outfit choice. He could only hope that meant he appeared properly repentant. He didn't know what would happen now, didn't even want to guess. If he was forced to decide, he would, but otherwise he wouldn't play that game. The waiting was the worst part. But now the waiting was nearly over.

"Hello, Perce..." Theseus said, but his normal joviality didn't meet his eyes, and Percival found himself wondering if he had done something unimaginably wrong. Theseus didn't seem the type to play games. He had been kind before.  
"Thanks for coming to talk to us," that was Newt, and he was curled up strangely on the sofa, his knees towards his chest and his arms wrapped around them. "We... we wanted to say that we're worried about you. We were going to say earlier, but we got called away, and you looked peaceful when we first arrived-"

"What am I doing that's worrying you?" Percival asked quickly, running through his actions in an attempt to discover which might have offended them.  
"We're not worried by you," Theseus clarified. "We're worried for you."  
That was another of Jauncey's tricks. To punish him for his failures, and explain how Percival had brought this upon himself, how it was all his own fault, how he had to be more careful in the future. It had been believable from Jauncey. From Theseus, the one person he had allowed himself to get close to during the war, it was devastating.

"I'm sorry," Percival said, and he was. He was sorry about the entire situation, but he was also sorry that he was letting Theseus and his brother down. They deserved better.  
"Was that the first sleep you got since arriving?" Theseus asked, and the look in his eyes made Percival sure that he was remembering the war, when Percival would work for days at a time before crashing in utter exhaustion. Percival nodded, and Theseus hissed.  
"Okay. Look, whatever's bothering you... I know you went through a lot. With Grindelwald, and with the war before that. I can't pretend I can fix everything. But Newt and I... We're here for you, if we can be. We are on your side," Theseus reached out for Percival's hand. Percival held his hand out, palm up, thinking of what he had heard about the Obscurial boy. 

Newt suddenly frowned, and then raced across the room before pouncing on his own suitcase with a resounding thud. Percival watched the entire undertaking with some confusion – he was familiar with Newt's adventures while Grindelwald wore his face, but it was still surprising to see him wrestling with a suitcase.  
"Something wrong?" Theseus asked, his attention mercifully momentarily diverted from Percival to his brother.

"Niffler's got loose," Newt muttered. "Percival, can I check in your room, please?"  
So this was it then. This would be the trap. They would find his remaining treasures, and blame him for having them. No opportunity to apologise, just the destruction of what he cared for.

"Of course," Percival answered quickly. Protesting or being reluctant would do him no favours. They were in control, and he couldn't stop that. Newt rushed off, returning a few moments later with a wriggling niffler beneath his arm, and something shining in his other hand. Percival nearly gagged. Newt threw the niffler down into the suitcase and then turned to Percival, holding out a shining object.

His lighter.

Percival reached for it before he thought better of it. Newt handed it over.  
"Sorry. He tends to steal things-"  
Percival turned the lighter over in his hand. He had been given it back, and he hoped it wasn’t just so that he could be forced to destroy it. He wondered if he could persuade them to let him hold onto it for now, even if he would end up burned by its flame. He could take the pain if he was allowed to keep the lighter.  
"How did you find it?"  
"He carries things with him. When I checked him it fell out, but he hadn't got into your room yet..."

Percival blinked back tears, grip firm on the lighter. He took a few deep breaths, gathering his strength, before turning to Theseus.  
"So…so what happens now?"  
"What do you mean?" Theseus asked softly, an arm around Newt's waist. Both of the Scamander brothers were staring straight at Percival, identical stern expressions on their faces.  
Percival looked down, making himself force out the next few words.

"What's my punishment going to be?"


	11. Confession

"What's my punishment going to be?"

The silence he was faced with in response was deafening. Percival was sure that both of the brothers could hear his heartbeat. When he'd first married Jauncey, barely eighteen and terrified out of his wits, he would have squirmed at the silence. Now he stood still, breathing slowly. He had been an auror once. He still held that strength. Sickness built in his chest.

"Punishment?" Theseus murmured after a few seconds, the single word loud in the room, even though it had been barely more than a whisper. Percival felt his insides twist, wondering if this was going to mean he had to choose, to dictate his own pain. It was a cruel game. Choose too low and he would be punished for trying to get off lightly. Too high, and he would be inflicting more than he should. With Jauncey, he had learned how to read him, the slight tells in his body that showed he wanted to inflict pain with his hands, or when he would be using spells, when he just wanted to watch as Percival suffered and when he wanted to cause it. He had no such way of knowing that with the brothers now.

"Where are your shoes?" Newt asked softly, and Percival felt the room spin. Had that been too presumptuous? Was it wrong to assume it might be pain inflicted on his feet? That had always been a particularly nasty trick as he spent hours on his feet, trying to clean, and any injury was magnified. He stood still, trying to make himself submit. Theseus was standing now, approaching him.

Theseus gripped his arms, guided him to sit down, slowly spoke to him to try and control his breathing.  
"Whatever that bastard did to you-" Theseus spat. "I swear, I will go into Azkaban and I will tear Grindelwald limb from limb if you give the word-"  
Percival couldn't move. He wondered if some spell had been cast on him. He couldn't see why, unless the pain would be so great he would collapse otherwise. The room was spinning faster now.

"It's too much," that was Newt, and Percival wondered if he had lost some of the conversation. Had his punishment already been decided? "Grindelwald had him for a month. This is... this isn't that. This is... this is something worse."  
Theseus was still crouched in front of Percival. Blood was flowing through Percival's ears, too loud for him to hear, but Theseus waved his hand slowly, indicating when to breathe. It took a moment or two, but Percival worked it out, copying the gesture.

Newt was watching him, and so was Theseus, and he realised he still hadn't got an answer to his question. He still didn't know what they would do, and it was cruel not to tell him. He shivered.  
"Percival, tell me-" Theseus began, and he knew he would have to spell out what he deserved, list off his transgressions. He would never remember the entire list. The thought of failing in even that task overwhelmed him, and the world around him faded into black.

***

He could hear murmuring as he began to regain consciousness, realising with some shame that he had fainted from fear.   
“He’s waking up. You can give him it now Theece.”  
Something was pressed to his lips, hard and solid. Obediently he opened his mouth, and warm liquid slipped across his tongue. It took a moment to place the flavour – it was tea, but there was a potion mixed in with it.

Despite his reluctance, he opened his eyes and looked up to find Theseus crouched in front of him. The room was at a strange angle, and he had been moved back into his bed. Theseus smiled a little when he saw Percival's eyes upon him.  
"It's a sedative," Theseus told him. "I'm sorry. We don't want to drug you, but whatever's going on..." He squeezed Percival's hand. "You're scared. And you don't need to be, not anymore."

"I'm sorry," Percival whispered. "What... what's going to happen to me?" he asked. He felt like a child, pleading for knowledge, but he couldn't stand waiting for a moment longer. "If... if you want me to decide my own... my own punishment, I will, but please... please, can I at least know your rules... I..." his voice shook, and Theseus gently fed him another sip of the tea, hot against his tongue. "I want to be good."

Theseus's hand rested on his own.  
"Percival, you're not making much sense," he spoke gently, kindly, but there was a confusion underlying the concern. It didn't look like a joke. "Can you explain it to me?"  
"I... I know I've failed you already," Percival whispered. "I... I brought things with me. The cufflinks and... and the lighter..."  
Even at this moment, he couldn't bring himself to give up the matchbox. The punishment might be worse for it, but he couldn't do that to himself. "I'm not a pureblood. I slept rather than cleaning and I haven't..." he paused for a moment, shame creeping in as he reached his final point. "I haven't been fulfilling my... my duties as a husband..."

Theseus was crouched before him, transfixed, and he could see Newt a short distance behind, some plants on the desk in front of him. Percival tried not to consider what potion Newt might be brewing for his punishment.  
"I tried," Percival admitted, furious at his own terror. "Last night, I tried to be... to be available. I got to... I got to the door outside your room, but I couldn't..." his voice shook for a moment. "I couldn't open it..."

Newt walked forwards, holding out a potion. It smelt like one that was used by women about to give birth, to help them cope with the pain. Jauncey had never hurt him badly enough that he had needed it, and he had been grateful for that.  
"Just a sip," Newt cautioned, and Percival obeyed. He wouldn't take advantage of the kindness of easing his punishment even slightly.

Theseus stood now, looming over him, and Percival tilted his head to the side, laying his throat exposed as he spread his legs the way he had been taught.  
"Why do you think we're going to punish you?" Theseus asked.

Percival took a deep breath. He didn't know whether or not Theseus knew he was married. Theseus knew he wasn't a virgin. But knowledge of Percival's faults didn't protect him from suffering because of them.  
"Because my last husband did."


	12. Absolution

"Because my last husband did."  
It was an admission of yet more failing, one more error among so many others, and Percival waited to find out the response. An array of emotions danced across Theseus's face. Anger was there, and so was surprise, and something that looked like horror.  
"Can we talk in the parlour, please?" Newt asked softly. "One of the occamies is there, and if we leave her too long, she'll go on another adventure," his voice was gentle, careful, and Newt's own expression wasn't as violent as Theseus's. Just confused.

"Sure," Theseus said quickly, backing up slightly, and shooting a look towards Newt. Newt shrugged, and Percival stood carefully, a little unsteady on his feet. The potions he had drunk had calmed him a little, given him a sense of distance from the terror that built in his chest, but he was still frightened. It was Theseus who took Percival's hand, apparating him the length of the house so that the two of them ended up beside the couch.

In the war, he would have smiled and teased Theseus about showing off by apparating such a short distance. Now, he sunk onto the couch, Newt walking in a moment later. Theseus waved a chair over, and Newt perched on the arm of it as Theseus took the seat, facing Percival.  
"If you feel dizzy again, say," Newt explained, and Theseus nodded. Newt leaned in, murmuring to Theseus, and Theseus's lips pressed together with anger. Percival did feel calmer, the sedatives having the desired effect, helping soothe his thoughts even as his heart raced.  
"Of course."

"Where is he?" Theseus asked. "Your last husband?"  
"He... he died. He died nearly fifteen years ago," Percival forced out the words. "A fall. I... I was blamed, but... I didn't. It wasn't me."  
He hadn't gotten help, but he had tried. The warding around the house had held him trapped until Jauncey was dead, and by then it was too late. There had been murmurs that Jauncey's death had been convenient for his ambitious young husband with hopes of being an auror. Nothing had been proved. Two years later he was off in the continent, fighting with the British and moving on.

That was what hurt the most. Percival had moved on; he had made a life for himself, and now it was all lost. He waited for the brothers' judgement, waited to see what they would want from him. In a way it was a relief to have it all in the open, even as he worried about what would come next. If he survived the next few hours, he might have some rules he could use to shape his life, to succeed. 

Theseus frowned, his gaze fixed on Percival, but Newt's hand was on his shoulder, calming him. It was clear that Newt was the one who would be more merciful, his body language calming. He was curled up slightly, not threatening but rather trying to reassure.  
"Theseus?" Newt asked, and his brother turned towards him. "Could you make us some hot chocolate, please?"  
Theseus got up and walked out to the kitchen. Percival tried not to flinch at the sound of something being punched when Theseus was out of sight. Newt picked up the occamy from the floor, and rested it on Percival's lap.

"Could you pat her for me? Down the spine, but not on the head. They get worried if you touch their heads. She needs to get used to being handled by more than one person."  
Percival blinked a little at the request, but did as he was asked, running his fingers along the overlapping scales. The occamy seemed to enjoy the attention, arching into his touch and hissing softly.  
"That's good," Newt said after a few moments. "Just like that."  
He smiled, and Percival focused on the task he had been given, the occamy growing a little as he continued.

Theseus returned after a couple of minutes, a mug of choco in each hand and a third floating through the air ahead of him. He handed one to Percival and one to Newt, snatching the third for himself.

Percival looked between the two of them. It felt almost calm, as though they weren't angry, and the drink was warm but not hot enough to burn. He took a couple of sips as he tried to find the strength to speak, but he couldn't work out what to say. Eventually it was Theseus who broke the silence.  
"We didn't know."

"I'm sorry," Percival mumbled into his mug. "I should have told you, but I didn't want to cause problems. I just... I wanted to be better this time. Jauncey always... always showed me how... how bad I was, how many mistakes I made, but I wanted to do better this time. I wanted to learn, to be good. To please you-"  
"We... we slept together in the war," Theseus said, sounding a little dazed. "I thought... I thought you wanted to-"  
"You said it was just for fun," Percival answered after a moment, a little embarrassed. "It didn't matter. I wasn't committing to anything, I could just... just relax. It wasn't..." he shook his head. "I enjoyed it."

'Theseus seemed to relax at that, and Percival couldn't shake off the feeling that he was missing something. That he had made a mistake and frightened Theseus, even when Theseus was the one with all of the power here.  
"I remember what you liked," Percival said softly. "You… you never made it painful, it was just… just intimacy. I still could do that for you now if you want. I can do anything, I'm sorry I wasn't… I'm sorry I had…" he shook his head. "You deserved better."

The noise that Theseus let out was almost a laugh. He was shaking his head, and looked like he might start crying at any moment. It was strange. He reached out for Percival's arm, resting a hand on it as Percival continued to gently pet the occamy.  
"It… was you who deserved better. But you… you were an auror, Perce. You fought, you were brave, and you saved lives. You came so far. Did… did MACUSA know what had happened to you when they agreed?"  
"A few. Madam President did."  
"And she didn't try and talk to us about it? Let you think you were just… just being sent to… to what? Be our toy? Please us? They were already throwing around the idea of execution, but it seems they wanted to hurt you and us."  
Theseus's eyes glittered angrily, and Percival flinched back slightly.

"Theece!" Newt snapped at his brother, pulling him up from his anger. "None of that was Percival's fault, at all."  
"I know that."  
"Then stop taking it out on him," Newt said softly. He watched Percival closely before speaking, his gaze resting on Percival, focused. "Yesterday, you did well with the creatures. If you could continue with that, it would help me a great deal."

Percival nodded quickly in response, trying to understand. It seemed like Newt was offering him a way to start repaying his debt, a way that he could rely on. It occurred to him that whatever they had drugged him for hadn't started yet.

Theseus managed a faint smile, but his eyes were shadowed.  
"This man… hurt you a lot, didn't he?" Theseus said, speaking carefully. "You aren't going to be hurt here."  
Percival thought of everything that Jauncey had told him. How it had always been punishment he deserved, mistakes that he had made when he should have known better. He couldn't help believing that it was his fault. It seemed like he was tricking them, and that when they discovered how bad he was, he would be punished.

"I'll try and be good," he promised again, the words sounding weak, echoing emptily. The strange thing was, they seemed to be blaming Jauncey for what had happened. "It wasn't his fault…" Percival murmured. "He just gave me what I deserved."

Theseus sighed softly.  
"No. We'll show you what you deserve, Perce. Just give us time," Theseus sounded like he was in pain. "But it won't hurt. You won't be hurt, not by us, not at all."

Percival tried not to think of Jauncey's friends. But Theseus sounded so honest, so sincere.  
"Do you have anything you want to know?" Newt asked softly.  
"Why did you give me that potion and then not… not punish me?"  
"To calm you. It gives a little distance, it makes conversations like this… easier," Newt answered, and Percival could see the logic there.

"I'm going to cook dinner now," Newt said, leaving Theseus and Percival alone. Theseus was gazing at the occamy on Percival's lap.  
"He's dead?"  
Percival nodded, and Theseus sighed, silence falling between them. Theseus was lost in his own thoughts, as Percival tried to make sense of what he had been told. When Theseus had said he would give Percival what he deserved, it felt like a promise, not a threat.


	13. Home Truths

Theseus reached out and squeezed Percival's hand. Percival stayed still, waiting for his husband's judgement to fall, but looking at Theseus, his eyes were kind.

"I am glad he's dead," Theseus said softly.  
Percival swallowed and inclined his head.  
"I'm glad too," he murmured. He wasn't sure whether he should voice that out loud, but it was the truth. Percival was relieved to be freed from Jauncey, and to have the opportunities he had found since he was released from him. He swallowed and licked his lips, glancing at Theseus. Theseus looked uncomfortable. His grip was still firm around Percival's hand, his thumb stroking the back it.

"You... have been expecting us to hurt you, haven't you?"  
Percival looked down and closed his eyes, his own grip squeezing gently around Theseus, drawing strength from the contact with him. He tried to remember the war, remember how Theseus would smile. Remember how he had felt safe. He gathered all the strength he had, and nodded once, waiting to see how Theseus would respond. He braced himself for shouting, for punches, for pain.

"You never said," Theseus murmured, and Percival shook his head a little, opening his mouth to apologise and pausing as Theseus pressed a finger to his lips. "We never asked you. Newt and I... we didn't want you to die. When marriage was offered as an alternative, we both jumped at the chance. We never thought about what you wanted, we just thought..." he paused and shook his head, frown creasing his forehead.

"If it had been me," Theseus continued, "I wouldn't have worried. I'd have trusted you, so I would have felt safe. I'm not... I'm not angry you didn't trust me. I'm worried."  
He wrapped an arm around Percival's shoulder, and Percival leaned into the contact, nuzzling into the warmth of his skin, focused on the heat of him. It was soothing; the arm around him was a security, but he wasn't pinned so tight he would have been unable to escape. Had he wanted to, he could have freed himself in a few brief moments.

It was a surprise to realise he didn't want to.

"You must miss your things," Theseus said after a moment. "Your wand most of all. I know how scared Newt was when it was suggested he might lose his..." Theseus lapsed into silence, clearly lost in his thoughts. Percival sat beside him, his breathing slower now. He wasn't worried. Instead he was focused on the physicality of Theseus against him, the strength of a body that he knew would not be used to harm him. Theseus's hand was on his shoulder, and the contact was warm. It was almost as though Theseus was giving Percival his strength. 

"I can't promise I'll be able to get your wand back," Theseus said softly, "but I will try. There must be other things – you brought so little."

Percival thought of the hidden matchbox, the papers that Seraphina had given him so that he could write to her, along with his own important files – his birth certificate, his first marriage certificate, and reports on some of his cases. Reminders to help him keep his mind. The certificate that had given him to the Scamander boys, like a prize, signed with his own blood.

He also thought of his own apartment, filled with things that he had collected and not been allowed to bring back.

"A few," he admitted, and it was harder than he would have wanted to face to say those few brief words. He was so frightened of getting this wrong, of managing to anger the man, but this was Theseus.

"You're tired?"  
"A little. I wanted to... to keep things good for you, to make you happy, but..."  
"We'll have dinner," Theseus said firmly, not allowing any argument as he set out his plan. "The three of us. Then you can rest, and I will look into if I can get any of your things back," Theseus gazed at him. "Is that alright?"

Percival nodded. Being asked for his opinion felt shocking in a way. Jauncey had certainly never cared about what he thought or what he wanted. But Theseus was different.

"Food's ready!" Newt called out, and Percival reached for Theseus's hand as the two of them walked in to where Newt had laid out three place settings. Newt waved them over, directing Percival to where an occamy was waiting. 

"Had a good talk?" Newt asked, his gaze towards the plate.  
"Productive," Theseus answered.

Newt nodded.  
"Do you need more of that potion, Percival?"  
Percival shook his head. He didn't want to be drugged. After everything else, he didn't think he could cope with that. He didn't want to lose focus. Even now, the certainty he had felt with Theseus had faded. This wasn't the war anymore, and Theseus wasn't his friend. Theseus was his husband, and the contract he had signed meant that Theseus and his brother basically owned him.

He needed to keep his wits about him. He ate in silence, glad that he knew he was expected to be in his own bed that night.

***

The food tasted like ashes in Theseus's mouth.

He had been trying to save a friend. To make life easier for a man who had been through so much and who deserved help. Who deserved kindness which he hadn't seen so far.

Instead he had left Percival a wreck. The man he knew from the war, that he had read about in the newspapers, was lost behind the sheer terror of what he had been forced to endure. Theseus didn't know what to make of that, other than a sense of bitterness that Percival's first husband was dead. If he hadn't been, Theseus would have taken a great deal of joy in punching the man repeatedly in the face.

Theseus tried to contain his anger. If Percival realized how he felt, it would only make things worse. But even knowing that, it was still hard when fury burned within him. Percival had been failed. There was more he wanted to know, but he couldn't ask Percival. Not when the questions would be so hard for him. Instead, he would find the answers he needed from their source.

When food was finished, Newt got up and walked Percival back to his room, pausing to feed the bundimun there. Theseus sent the plates to the sink with a wave of his hand, looking up only as Newt returned. Newt was frowning a little, but he smiled at Theseus.  
"He seems jumpy."  
"Newt, he has no wand, he's far from home, and he's lost everything he cares about. No wonder he's jumpy."

"We should ask for his wand back," Newt suggested. Theseus frowned, about to point out the stupidity of that idea, when he realised that it might just work. If he and Newt were to be in charge of their husband, that meant that they got to decide what was best for him.

"It's worth a go," Theseus conceded. "I'll ask for it. If not, I want you to take him to Ollivander's and buy him a new wand."  
"You want me to?" Newt asked, visibly startled.

"I do," Theseus agreed. "I've got a few people I need to talk to. Make sure that the President of MACUSA realises what she has done to him for a start."

Newt paused and then nodded.  
"Be careful with him, Theseus. The fact he's frightened... I don't think that is all there is."

Theseus remembered the previous night, when he had heard Percival say about his _duties as a husband_ and fought down the bile that threatened to escape.

***

Lying in a bed still felt strange for Percival, but he knew that this was where he could relax at least for a little while. He wouldn't be punished for resting here. Theseus's words echoed in his mind. Theseus didn't expect to hurt him. Theseus knew he missed home.

He got to his feet and walked to the matchbox, writing _S. Picquery_ on the front of a scrap of paper. He didn't charm it, even though it would have been easy to hide such information if he wanted to. On the back he wrote about everything that had happened since his coming to England. _Theseus is angry a lot, but it seems more for me than at me. Newt showed me his creatures. It's alright here, they have been kind. I just don't quite understand them. I hope this finds you well._ Emboldened by his words, he folded the paper and placed it in the box so it would be transported to the box's double before he had the chance to regret it.


	14. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your support. Sorry this chapter was a little slow in coming

Theseus had hoped the feeling of sickness swirling in his gut would lessen now that he understood what was wrong with Percival. But his own lack of knowledge haunted him. He couldn't explain what had happened before, and without knowing that he had no idea how to help him.

Newt squeezed his hand, cuddling up against his side. He was wearing an oversized pair of pyjamas, his hair even more of a mess than normal.  
"Stop worrying," Newt demanded.  
Theseus looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Newt, I don't think you understand what he's been through."  
"Not yet," Newt agreed. "But we both know he's safe now. Getting someone or something to safety is the hard part. Now that he's safe, all we need to do is help him see it."  
"And how do you suggest we do that?" Theseus asked, thinking of how terrified Percival had been.  
"Well, with creatures I talk to them. I show them around their environment and I feed them and make sure their needs are met. Then it depends on the creature – some can't stand being alone, so I climb in beside them the first night or two. Others I give space to settle. It depends on the creature. You're the kind that would need company."

Theseus nodded, trying to smooth down some of the strands of Newt's hair. His brother might have been best with injured and frightened creatures, but Theseus could see now he was the same with humans. He thought of Newt after the war, holding him through every nightmare. Remembered how Newt's anger had mirrored his own at the fate that awaited Percival, how he had stood by Theseus's side and agreed to marry him, so that if something happened to Theseus, Percival would not be sent to die.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Newt, get some sleep…"

He closed his eyes and drifted off, hoping Percival would be sleeping well in his own room. The next morning, he could head into the Ministry and see about getting Percival's wand back.

Theseus would have liked to walk in spells blazing, and demand they returned his lover's wand, that Percival was treated with the respect he deserved, and freed from what had come before. But politics did not work in that way. Leaving Newt to make breakfast, and Percival to sleep, Theseus headed into the office, going directly to the Minister's rooms, knocking smartly until the secretary showed him inside.

He bowed formally.  
"Minister."  
"Auror Scamander. To what do I owe this early visit? I thought that you and your brother would be enjoying the time you have been given to... relax."  
"It is time most gratefully received, Minister, although the planned trip to America in a few days makes me wonder – well, I saw that Nott was down to attend, and I believe I would be better suited. And the marriage is partially to assist our relations with the Americans. It would be foolish not to send me."  
"As you wish. Now, are you going to tell me why you are here, or do I have to keep guessing?"  
"I wish to ask a favour."  
"What is it this time?" the Minister drawled, and Theseus made himself smile brightly.  
"I would like to have Percival Scamander's wand."  
The Minister frowned, his lips moving in the shape of words. Theseus thought he could make out 'highly innappropriate' and 'dangerous'. Before the Minister could speak, Theseus continued.

"I have a busy life as you know, Minister, and a dangerous one. There are dozens of criminals out there who blame me for their misdeeds being discovered, and who would happily attack or kill me. Then there is my brother's work; he is having Percival assist him with his care of the creatures. I would feel safer if the man was armed, given the potential risk of-"  
"Of some of your brother's pets," the Minister agreed. "There is logic to your argument, but I do not think that we can trust Percival." 

"Minister, I can manage my own life. If I say that he will not be able to use magic against my brother or I, then I believe I have the strength to ensure it. I will make sure he does not have access all the time, only when I deem it advantageous."   
For a moment, Theseus thought he would be denied. Instead, the black wand was handed over.

He checked it over in his hands, then nodded his thanks to the Minister, and made his way home. The smell of cooking filled the air – Newt was preparing breakfast, and Percival was standing nearby, a worried expression on his face.  
"Perce, you look upset?" Theseus queried. The emotions that warred over Percival's face in response were concerning – he was clearly afraid, but there was more to it than that. Eventually he squared his shoulders, his body going into a duelling stance. It was a position aurors often took when they thought they would be attacked.

For a few seconds there was silence, and then Percival spoke.  
"If you want to punish anyone by withholding food, it should be me. The niffler was only following its nature when it stole. I was foolish."

Theseus frowned, trying to work out where exactly that outburst had come from.  
"No one is being starved under my watch."  
"But..." Percival began, then ducked his head down. His internal conflict continued a little longer before he looked up, meeting Theseus's eyes. "You aren't allowing Newt to eat meat."

Theseus fought back a laugh, everything falling into place. Percival had worked out Newt had different food, and set out to protect him. A moment later he realised that past experience could explain Percival's mental leap now, and that was a concerning thought.  
"I don't want to," Newt said softly, taking advantage of the silence to speak. "I don't enjoy meat. It... bothers me. I can feed it to my creatures – they eat meat because it is in their nature. But I... I cannot. It's not in my nature."

Theseus nodded encouragingly to Newt, before walking closer to Percival and smiling.  
Percival pressed his lips together, but before he could argue, Theseus was holding out his wand so that he could grasp the hilt.

***

It actually took a few moments for Percival to realise what was being held towards him. It wasn't just a confiscated wand; it was his own wand, the one he had surrendered in the marriage.

He took a deep breath before reaching out. His hand was shaking so badly that he couldn't stop it... But his wand was there. He nearly grabbed it, before looking up at Theseus.  
"Why?" he asked. He couldn't understand why Theseus would arm him given their current situation. Jauncey had thought his having a wand would be dangerous, and he had been less powerful then.  
"During the war I felt better knowing you had my back, Perce," Theseus answered, and slowly Percival nodded. He waved his wand, and a few sparks flitted out of the end.  
"You can do magic here," Theseus said, and Percival stared in shock. Theseus shrugged his shoulders, as though his words were the simplest and most obvious thing imaginable. Percival had worried he would never be allowed to use magic, and now here his wand was returned to his grip. "Do as much magic as you want. You don't have to keep the place tidy or cook food, but I guess it's a lot easier to do that with magic than without?"  
Slowly, and feeling a little dazed, Percival nodded. He gazed at his wand. He had feared that it had been broken when he had been married off. This was the wand that he had had from Ilvermorny. He couldn't lift his head from the wand, hypnotised.   
"Are you sure?"  
"Of course," Theseus said firmly. "You can do wandless magic too if you want."  
Theseus looked so calm, and Pecival tried to understand it. In the war he and Theseus had looked after each other. He hadn't realised that would still stand, given the nature of their relationship.

Newt smiled, dishing out the breakfast and floating it to the table. Percival hesitated for a moment, seeing the uneven distribution of food – but Newt certainly didn't look unhappy with what he was doing. Newt reached out for a moment, his hand resting on Percival's own.  
"Thank you for standing up for me," Newt said softly, his gaze away from Percival's face. "I appreciate it."

Percival nodded, a little startled by the comment. It was good to know he had helped, even if his initial understanding of the situation had been wrong. Theseus kept smiling at Percival, and Percival shyly smiled back. It felt like back in the war, when they had been friends, when they had been close to each other and it had been easy. Everything had made sense back then, and now nothing did.

After the meal was finished, Theseus set the dishes to washing themselves. Then he turned to both of them, and paused.  
"Newt, do you have anything vital here in the next week or so?"  
"A few edits," Newt said with a shrug. "But I can do them anywhere."

Theseus nodded, and turned to Percival.  
"I'm going to be visiting America for a series of meetings with MACUSA. I would like both of you to accompany me. And Perce, while you're there, see your friends. They must miss you."  
Percival stared at him in shock, and then smiled a little, managing a nod.  
"Thank you," he breathed.


	15. Confrontation

Percival could scarcely believe he was going home; he had thought he had been forced from America forever. He would return as less than he once was. Henery was director now, working beside Seraphina. He would be a visitor in MACUSA, no longer striding to his own office, but instead seeing the people he cared for most on borrowed time. Yet it was still a greater kindness than he had expected. He would be going home.

He wrote a quick note to Picquery.  
 _Scamanders visiting America for work. I am to accompany them. I think I'll be able to see you, even if briefly. Hope you are doing well and that Henery is settling into his new job well. He's a clever man, he will aid you._ He slipped the note into the box, and began to pack, jumping and hiding the box beneath him when there was a knock on the door.

Newt peered around, blinking almost owlishly.  
"I wondered if you needed to put anything in my case," Newt explained. "I tend to use the Muggle-worthy setting to hold enough for a few days, but anything I might need for longer I store in my study."  
Percival thought of the ramshackle shed full of books. He wasn't sure he would have called it a study, but he nodded regardless.  
"Thank you," he murmured politely.  
Newt nodded. "It's alright. There's a lot of space, and the animals like you. It really is no hardship for you to come and visit," Newt insisted, his skin developing a mildly concerning pink hue.

Percival tried not to let himself think too much about what that might mean.  
"Or you can have your own case," Newt said, as though just remembering the fact. He pushed Percival's door open a little further, revealing that in one hand he was holding a suitcase. Percival hid his smile as Newt placed the case down beside him.  
"If you need anything at all, let me know."

He nodded, watching Newt retreat. It was strange. He knew how these things were meant to work. Newt and Theseus had power over if he lived or died, and were expected to act as such, to protect their status. They certainly weren't meant to be helping ensure that he was comfortable before he slept, or bringing him cases. Offering the chance to hide things from them.  
"Thank you," he called out, remembering his manners just before Newt left the room completely.

Newt turned back, flashing him an utterly brilliant smile.   
"It's not as big as mine, but there's... well, there's an office in there. You can always use that if you need a quick getaway from everything here," Newt spoke with the voice of experience, his gaze lowered as he spoke. Percival smiled at him.  
"That's very kind," he said honestly, and that praise seemed to help Newt to relax. Percival didn't speak again, and Newt left without a backwards glance. 

He paused for a few moments, then turned to his case. It was black leather, with silver locks – and it was far smarter than Newt's own battered box filled with creatures. He opened it on the Muggle-worthy setting, and carefully filled it up with the books and clothes he needed. He could only hope he wouldn't lose the case somehow.

It didn't seem that likely to him that Theseus or Newt would take it from him as a punishment. Relaxing in a situation like his had the possibility of being dangerous, he knew that. But he still did feel a little calmer with them. 

Having packed the Muggle-worthy side of the case, it was time for an exploration of what else it held. Climbing down the stairs was like stepping into another world. Some background part of Percival's brain suggested he investigate the possibility of spaces such as this case being fully utilised by aurors. He had dealt with investigations before where other people had transfigured themselves; using something like this would enable them to investigate. It would be easy enough for things to get left behind. To leave a suitcase like this in the corner of an office, stuffed to the brim with aurors – it had the potential to completely transform MACUSA's work.

He would have to tell Henery.

There was a desk, and a comfortable looking chair, shelves – some empty, others full of books. There was a single bed in the corner, and there were clouds floating across the artificial sky. He looked around, blinking back tears. This was his sanctuary. A gift from the others, somewhere he would be safe, somewhere that the world couldn't get him.

Knowing that, he wandered around the room. In one of the corners it opened up to reveal what was a small version of the pantry, with a fire blazing in the grate and a leather armchair. There was another room leading off that one, and another after that. Four rooms. Four sanctuaries. He could hide there, and he could be safe.

It shook him, to know he had been offered that. But he clambered back up, and used his wand to float a few books into the case. He picked up the suitcase, and walked into the parlor.

"Hello," he said softly.  
Theseus looked up and smiled. "You like it?"  
He nodded.  
"Thank you," His voice shook a little, but he managed to hold his head up high. "This is... this is useful," Percival answered, and Theseus nodded.

"We both were working on it for you. It was Newt's idea. You deserve something... well, we do quite a lot of travelling. It's good to have somewhere to go. And Newt's place is chaos."  
"My case is fine!" Newt protested, but he smiled.  
Percival nodded, and then Newt paused. "Do you mind if I travel in my case?"  
He glanced at his brother and then at Percival.  
"Of course not," Theseus said quickly. "Newt and the creatures sometimes get a little nervous. You could travel with him if you want?"

Percival considered, and then shook his head.  
"I'll stay out. Keep the case safe."  
Newt flashed a smile and then climbed into his suitase. Percival picked it up and glanced at Theseus.  
"Ministry has a Portkey arranged."  
"Thank you."  
He walked beside Theseus into the Ministry. The usual chaos was going on, people scurrying around – it didn't feel like MACUSA though. Too formal, too British, too different. He carried the case containing Newt and his creatures.

They made their way to the Portkey Office. Theseus squeezed his hand, and Percival smiled.  
"I've got to see President Picquery when we get there. You go and do whatever you need to. We'll be in some of the rooms MACUSA sets aside for foreign aurors," he shrugged a little and smiled, "so maybe meet up there for dinner? If you need to eat elsewhere, that's fine. Just... try and be back by the morning?"

"You sure about this?" Percival asked. "You know I could just run and never look back."  
"I know," Theseus answered. "And if that's what you do, I'll know you did it because it was what is right for you. But I hope we might have a chance, and if we do, I think that you'll be there," he signaled for Percival to put Newt's case down. Newt clambered out and gripped the Portkey rather firmly with his left hand, leaning his head on Theseus's shoulder.

With his right hand, he reached out and squeezed Percival's hand. Percival smiled and gripped the Portkey, and the world twisted around them. As the air cleared, the three of them were standing in MACUSA's central hall. Percival ducked his head slightly. Theseus reached out and tapped his shoulder, guiding his head up so that he looked at him.  
"You don't have to hide who you are here," Theseus said softly, pointing over to where Henery was striding across the foyer. "Go and talk to him. He looks pleased to see you."

"Thanks," Percival whispered, and walked towards him.  
Henery greeted him as an old friend, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and squeezing gently. "It's good to see you," he said softly. "Hasn't been the same without you, sir."  
He walked with Percival to the Aurors' Office, and Percival felt himself stand taller with every step. He was proud to see the aurors, and relieved to know they were alright.  
"I'm going to be here for a few days. Theseus has work here," he explained.

"Is that your wand?" Starling asked, reaching out and touching it. Percival nodded, holding it out for them to all see.  
"They returned it to me. They're treating me well," Percival answered, his voice falling into the old lines he used to pedal when questioned about Jauncey. Only it was the truth now. His team were worried about him, but he realised that they didn't need to worry. He wasn't afraid.

That realisation was shocking, but he couldn't linger on that.  
"So, what have you been doing? Anything you need me to help with?"

Starling hollered in joy and Henery nodded.  
"Damn good to have you back, sir."

***

The jubilation of being reunited with his aurors faded to the kind of intense focus this place had always been filled with. By the time he was heading off, he felt like he could be useful. Henery grabbed his elbow.  
"Sir?"  
"Yes?" he asked, giving up on correcting him.

"It'd be good if we can work together. Maybe we can pass files when you go back?"  
"I'd like that," Percival answered, walking out of the Aurors’ Office.

He made it three steps before a wave of magic sent him slamming into the nearest wall. He twisted to find Secretary Piers, Chief Financial Officer for MACUSA, glaring up at him. He pushed the magic off of himself with a wave of his hand, and with a flick of his wrist sent Piers's wand flying away.

Piers tried to grab the wand, but he was old and his magic was no match to Percival's own. Piers had always been weaker than Percival, even when Percival had been eighteen years old and introduced to all of Jauncey's friends. His power hadn't mattered then. But he was stronger now. He walked away.  
"I can't believe they let you back in to the country after what you did for Grindelwald. I knew you'd always spread your legs for anyone you wanted, but this is... this is spectacular. You betrayed everything MACUSA stands for."

"No," Percival said softly, keeping walking. He turned the corner, and found Seraphina and Theseus walking side by side. Theseus's eyes were damp, but seeing Percival he froze.  
"What happened?"  
"Nothing," Percival tried to deny it, not wanting to cause any more trouble.

"I was telling the traitor here that he wasn't welcome here," Piers answered. "We don't want Grindelwald's whore."  
"Secretary Piers, hold your tongue," Picquery spat as Theseus turned on him.  
"You do not speak to my husband that way," he snarled. "Picquery, after what we spoke of – I want to talk to this man in the morning, with you present."  
"I shall escort him to the cells myself," she answered, forcing Piers away. Theseus walked over to Percival, and wrapped his arms around him.

Percival's shoulders shook.  
"Let's go to our room. Then we can... we can talk."


	16. Confrontation Part Two

Returning to America was hard for Theseus – he was only too aware that this was the place that had sentenced his little brother to death, and had been willing to send his best friend to Azkaban for something which was in no way his fault. But there was no way that he could ignore how clearly Percival wanted to return home. With what little he had managed to learn from him about his past marriage, it was clear that Percival deserved to feel safe. Even if Percival had told him nothing, he would have wanted to help him. But now that he knew, he was sure Percival was suffering more than he was letting on.

That was reason enough for him to jump at the chance to visit. He could only hope that seeing his friends would help Percival relax, and understand that he was safe. More than that, he was hoping he might gain the opportunity to speak to President Picquery, to ensure that no one else would ever be abandoned the way Percival had been. 

He couldn't help feeling angry at how little support Percival had been given. How America had been willing to have him sent to his death without speaking up for him, how they had appeared willing even to contemplate Azkaban. None of it was right. Not when Percival had served MACUSA for his entire life.

Newt was putting the last of his things into his case as Theseus rested in the parlour. He'd traveled enough that he always had a bag ready to take with him on his next adventure. It was a relief when Percival appeared, his new case at his side. Theseus had worked with Newt to create it in the hope that it would provide him with a sense of security and sanctuary, and it seemed to have been working. Theseus was relieved with that.

The two of them made their way to the Ministry, Newt hiding in his case. He always preferred to travel with his creatures, finding that they were less stressful travelling companions and better conversation than most humans. Theseus was careful not to take that personally.

Once they were in the Portkey Office, he set out to explain what would happen, reaching across to squeeze Percival's hand. It seemed to soothe him a little.  
"I've got to see President Picquery when we get there. You go and do whatever you need to. We'll be in some of the rooms MACUSA sets aside for foreign aurors," he shrugged a little, hoping that would be enough to help him relax, "so maybe meet up there for dinner? If you need to eat elsewhere, that's fine. Just... try and be back by the morning?"

Percival frowned a little as he glanced up at him, looking genuinely surprised.  
"You sure about this? You know I could just run and never look back."  
"I know," Theseus answered honestly. "And if that's what you do, I'll know you did it because it was what is right for you. But I hope we might have a chance, and if we do, I think that you'll be there."  
He smiled at Percival, and pointed at the case.

Despite Newt's preference for travelling in the case, sometimes it was easier for him to be outside of it – and using a Portkey was a perfect example. Newt clambered out, resting his head on Theseus's shoulder, as they gripped the portkey, moving from the Ministry to MACUSA in the space of a few heartbeats.

Percival looked hopeful for a moment, glancing around before turning his gaze down at his own feet. He was shrinking, and it worried Theseus. It was almost as though Percival believed he was less than the rest of them. He reached down, tilting Percival's head up towards him and smiling a little, hoping it would calm him. But their arrival had drawn attention.

He could see an auror striding across the space towards them.  
"You don't have to hide who you are here. Go and talk to him. He looks pleased to see you."

Percival whispered his thanks, and walked away. Theseus watched him go, and then headed to Picquery's office as Newt slipped away to find his friends. He hadn't made an appointment but he had to hope she would be willing to meet him, to listen to what he might have to say. He knocked smartly on her office door, felt the warmth of her magic sweep through him.

"Come in, Mister Scamander, take a seat," a voice called out, and he walked in, bowing smartly. Just because he was furious with her didn't mean he couldn't act appropriately. "Why are you here?" she asked, looking rather concerned. "What have you done to Mister Graves?"  
"Mister Percival Scamander," Theseus corrected tartly, "is doing much better now than he would have been in Azkaban's cells. He's got his wand back. He's helping my brother with his creatures, and he is rebuilding his life after everything that Grindelwald and MACUSA did. You were willing to sell him out; you knew he was frightened and you made no effort to explain. You even suggested execution, and then you ask me what it is that I did to him? You're the ones who hurt him."  
"MACUSA did nothing to Director Graves!" Seraphina snapped. She leaned forwards to get closer to him, wand out on the table in front of her.

"MACUSA was willing to send him to Azkaban. If I hadn't managed to claim pureblood privilege-" Theseus tried to explain, only to stop at the look of sheer horror on the President's face.

"What do you mean, pureblood privilege?" she spat. "Is that how it works in Britain? People like you get their pick of those who will be getting sent Azkaban? You marry them and they're what, meant to be grateful?"

"I didn't claim it for me," Theseus frowned. "I managed to persuade the Minister that it should apply to members of the Twelve as well as the pureblood British families. I argued it for Percival."

"What?" the President looked confused now, as well as angry.

"Do you even know..." Theseus took a deep breath and then continued. "Pureblood privilege is the idea that if a crime has been committed that would be sufficient to get a witch or wizard sent to Azkaban, they can instead ask their victim to make a deal. Marrying into a pureblood family... it was a way of getting rid of unwanted pureblood children, to keep others out of the prisons... By saying that Newt and I would accept the status that being married to Percival would entail, rather than ask for his punishment... it would save his life." 

Picquery stared at him, sheer incomprehension written across her features.  
"And so just like that, you decided to marry him?"  
"I saved his life," Theseus answered. "I know you must miss him, but he's better off with us than dead or in Azkaban. You can talk to him about it. I brought him here so that his friends could see him, so that he wouldn't miss you all so much and..."  
"No," her voice was cold, her eyes glinting dangerously with sheer fury. "He asked to die. That last night, we sat up together because he needed to not be alone, and he asked me to let him die."

She swallowed.  
"I had to look my closest friend in the eye and tell him that no, he couldn't be killed, because the British weren't placing that on the table. I had to tell him I didn't want him to lose his soul, that I couldn't face him being destroyed like that. That the only option that was available was his worst fear. That I couldn't even kill him. And you walk in here and act as though I'm in the wrong, as though the contract you made wasn't written in Percival's blood."  
She stood up now, her gaze burning with anger.

"You had him sign away his own name. And you waltz in here, calling him Scamander as though it was something that he chose, as though he wasn't little more than a slave. You were a virtual stranger to him. Maybe you were close once, in the war. I know he spoke kindly of a British auror back then. But you don't know him. No one who knew him, no one who cared about him, could have done what you did."

She took a deep breath.  
"You made a liar of me, Mister Scamander. I lost my best friend for three long years. And when I found him again, he was broken. He'd been hurt worse than you could ever comprehend; tortured. Because that's what that man did. He broke him, tortured him. He hurt him, and he let his friends hurt him. Friends that have risen through MACUSA, that I have been unable to stop. He took one of the most powerful wizards of our generation, and he turned him into his own private punching bag. He beat him to the edge of death, and still expected dinner on the table. And he made him lie. He made him say that everything was fine, because if he said anything else it might have damaged that precious pureblood reputation that you claim saved him. When that monster died, I promised him that it would never happen again. That he would become stronger, and that he would never ever get hurt like that again. And you made a liar of me."

Her eyes were damp with tears now, and Theseus watched, beyond words. He'd known that the previous marriage had been bad, but he'd never have guessed it was the nightmare that she was setting out before him.

"You made a liar of me," the President repeated. "You know that Percival is skilled with wandless magic? That's because his last husband confiscated his wand. You took him and you trapped him in his worst nightmare, you stole him across the Atlantic, and then you dare come in here and criticise me for what has happened?" 

Theseus blinked, startled to find that he had started to cry.  
"Mister Graves is still my closest friend," the President continued, "and I will not allow you to destroy him. If you care for him the way you claim, then you'll be glad I've told you the truth. Someone had to."  
"I'll talk to him," Theseus whispered. It wasn't enough. Not after her outburst. Not after all he had learned. But it was all he had to offer.

 

***

Theseus wiped his eyes as the two of them walked side by side from her office.  
"Thank you for... being honest," Theseus managed. It was a horrific situation, but knowing the truth could help. Now that he understood, he would have to work out how to fix it.

"It's alright, Mister Scamander. I know you were doing what you could to save him. And it's because of you that he's been able to keep his soul..."  
This was hard on both of them. But it was clear that both of them had Percival's best interests at heart. That at least meant they would work together.

He heard a raised voice, walking a little faster. As they approached a corner, Percival stepped out, pale with anger.  
"What happened?" Theseus asked as tenderly as he could.  
"Nothing."

Another man walked around the corner. He was an older gentleman, wearing a smartly cut suit. He looked furious. When he spoke, his voice dripped with cold fury.  
"I was telling the traitor here that he wasn't welcome here. We don't want Grindelwald's whore."  
"Secretary Piers, hold your tongue," Picquery hissed, as Theseus fought to find the words he needed. He was horrified that anyone would talk to Percival like that. That he could still be blamed when he had fought, when he had resisted.  
"You do not speak to my husband that way," he snarled. "Picquery, after what we spoke of – I want to talk to this man in the morning, with you present."  
"I shall escort him to the cells myself," She answered, taking the man away at wand point. Theseus walked across to Percival, and wrapped his arms around him.

Percival's shoulders shook with emotion. Theseus was sure he was shaking as well, Picquery's words echoing in his head. Theseus embraced him tighter for a few moments, breathing slowly, before he spoke.  
"Let's go to our room. Then we can... we can talk."

Percival nodded, letting Theseus guide him back to the rooms that they were staying in. Theseus reached out and gently squeezed Percival's hand. After a moment, Percival squeezed back, his lips lifting slightly in a smile.


	17. Progress

Percival walked beside Theseus, trying to understand what had just happened. Seraphina coming to his aid was hardly a surprise – she had always been protective. She had been angry with Jauncey, even though she had been in no position at the time to stop it. If Theseus had stepped in to protect his property, Percival would have understood. But he thought he had done it to try and help. To protect Percival, and that didn't fit with what Percival knew of how this kind of thing worked.

Theseus cleared his throat.  
"So how were your aurors?"  
"Good. I gave a few pointers, but... they really are remarkable," Percival answered honestly. "It was good to see them. Thank you."  
He wouldn't let Theseus think that he wasn't grateful. It was dangerous if you weren't grateful... And Theseus really had done a lot for him.

"It's okay. That's why I wanted this assignment," Theseus said quickly, and then silence fell between them. "Sorry that Newt isn't around right now. He's off seeing Queenie and Tina, I think it's good that he has friends here," Theseus explained. 

"I don't mind..." Percival said, surprised that Theseus seemed concerned with his opinion. It was a strange situation, but he couldn't help noticing that Theseus really did care. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

"Who was that man?" Theseus asked as they ascended the stairs to the rooms that had been assigned to them.  
"That was MACUSA's Chief Financial Officer, Secretary Piers."  
"Who is he to you?" Theseus asked, clearly unsatisfied by that answer.  
Percival paused for a moment, gathering all of his courage. He managed to stop his voice shaking as he answered.

"Please, can I tell you when we're in our room?"  
He didn't want it known. It was bad enough that some people in MACUSA knew he had been sold to the British as part of a peace deal. Bad enough that some thought he had been raped by Grindelwald – really, Grindelwald had been a gentleman. Only torture, and that only when Percival had tried to keep MACUSA's secrets from him. Compared to Jauncey, Grindelwald had been kind. Percival didn't want all of his dirty secrets placed on display.

Theseus nodded, but his lips were pressed together. Percival decided that even if Theseus was angry, it would be worth it in order to ensure he was able to keep this particular piece of information secret for a little longer.

The door to their room opened as they reached it. Newt's suitcase was on the bed, open, and Percival could hear faint noises from inside. Theseus cast a quick silencing charm over it.  
"In case he's brought friends back,” Theseus explained, and Percival nodded. The door to their room closed and they were alone. This was his opportunity to explain what had happened. He took a deep breath.  
"He was one of my ex-husband's friends."  
He silently willed that that would be enough, that after that Theseus would drop the topic.

Theseus looked at him, patient but firm, and he sighed. "My ex-husband... his name was... Jauncey, Adam Jauncey..."  
Even saying the name made the room spin slightly. He found himself glancing towards the door, half expecting the man to open it. Nothing happened, and Percival took a slow breath. "He treated me poorly. He had clear expectations, and they had to be met," he managed a weak smile.

Theseus reached out to squeeze Percival's hand.  
"And if they weren't met, there would be hell to pay. One of his expectations was that his husband would..." Percival forced out the next few words, even as he feared it would mean he lost Theseus. "That _I_ would please his friends when they visited."

There was no response for a few moments, Theseus thinking through what had been said. Percival tried to brace himself for anger or disgust.  
"You're telling me that man raped you?" Theseus asked. "I swear..." his hands were clenched tight on the sheets, his knuckles pale as he fought to restrain his own anger. 

"I won't let him hurt you again," Theseus said, and the harshness of his voice had faded a little as he tried to hide it.

"Thank you," Percival waited for judgement to fall. He couldn't imagine that Theseus was the type to let his friends hurt someone he was meant to care for, but he expected anger.  
"How do you want me to handle it?" Theseus asked him after a moment. "I'm going to speak to him in the cell tomorrow. Explain... well, I want to explain that no one speaks to my husband like that, that he is the worst kind of scum, and that I will be doing everything within my power to make his life hell. But it's your choice," Theseus gazed into Percival's eyes. "Sounds like you haven't had enough choices. How I deal with him is up to you."

"Make it clear he's being watched from now on," Percival said quietly. "That if he hurts anyone else, he will answer to the President herself. I won't insist on an apology, although if you can get one, I'd be grateful. I just want to know it won't happen to anyone else."  
"I can do that," Theseus agreed. "Thank you."

"What happened between you and Picquery?" Percival asked, trying to build on the trust they had begun to share.  
"She put me straight on a few facts," Theseus said softly. "And made sure that I was treating you right. The fact I'm still alive seems to show that she thinks I am doing a tolerable job." 

Percival sat lost in thought for a few moments, until Newt climbed out of the case, Queenie by his side.  
"Good to see you Director!" she squealed. "Newt tells me you've been doing wonders with his creatures."  
"I do what I can," Percival answered, allowing her a quick embrace before she left to continue with her work. Newt smiled shyly.  
"Did you get to see your friends?" he asked, his gaze not quite meeting Percival's face.  
"I did," Percival agreed. "And they're coping fine without me."  
"I think they'd do better if you were there," Newt said, with the kind of honesty Percival had begun to recognise as his trademark. He smiled at that comment.  
"Kind of you to say," Percival answered.

"Do you want to come into the case?" Newt asked. "I've done most of the rounds, but I've left you the nundu, the occamy and the mooncalves. They really like you."   
"Lucky, Percival!" Theseus teased, but he made no attempt to stop Percival going to Newt. Newt smiled up at him.  
"I was just showing Queenie the fwooper chicks. She thought that their eggs were beautiful, and said she might use the patterns in a dress," Newt explained as the two of them made their way through the case. 

"Can I ask you a question?" Percival asked, feeling a little braver after the discussion he had had with Theseus.  
"Of course," Newt grinned. "But I can't promise I know the answer. There's a lot about creatures I'm still to discover."  
"Not about creatures," Percival answered. Newt made no move to stop him asking. "Why did you marry me?"  
"Because it was the right thing to do," Newt said carefully. "Because Theseus wanted to save you and I wanted to help. And because from what I had heard, you were a good man. The first few days were... were very hard. Every time I looked at you, I saw _him_. But it's getting easier to see you instead."

The silence that fell between the two of them was comfortable, and Percival smiled, relaxing a little. Newt cleared his throat as he heaved most of a cow carcass into the nundu's territory.  
"I'd do the same again," Newt told him. "Not just because it's the right thing to do. I like having you around."  
Percival nodded, and when Newt reached out for his hand he let Newt take it, squeezing gently and wordlessly vanishing the stains the meat had left on his skin.

Creatures fed, they climbed back out. Theseus had three meals set at the table. Newt's as always contained no meat, but Percival was less worried by that now than he had been before.  
"You two have fun?"  
"We did," Percival answered as Newt nodded. It was strange – he never would have imagined finding much enjoyment with creatures, but with Newt sometimes he could see what it was that Newt saw in them.  
"Good," Theseus nodded. "Percival, do you want to come with me tomorrow?"  
Percival considered then nodded, eating as the other two did. He no longer waited for the order to eat, because they didn't seem to be wanting to give it. With Theseus, it was easy to forget that they weren't still in the war, that they were married now.

"Perce, do you want the larger bedroom or the one with bunk beds?" Theseus asked as his plates cleaned themselves. "We've got a double and two bunks, so really it's whatever you want."  
Percival considered. He wasn't keen on bunk beds, not since the war when he had seen how much harm could be done by one person's bed falling on someone who was asleep. But he knew Theseus had seen the same scene, had been sickened by it. It was a generous offer he was making, but not one that Percival could inflict on him.  
"We could share," Percival said cautiously. 

It was strange. A few days ago he had lived in terror of being invited into their beds. Now when Theseus nodded he felt almost relieved. He used the room with the bunk bed in to change, and knocked on the door. Theseus opened it, and led him in. The bed was large, and Theseus and Newt had already claimed one side, Newt in the middle with space for Theseus beside him. It was clear they were trying to give Percival some room while still letting him be nearby.  
"Thank you,” Percival murmured, laying down.

It felt almost comforting to know that the brothers were so close.


	18. Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge huge thanks goes out to RedFurryDemon (https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFurryDemon/pseuds/RedFurryDemon) who has gone through the entire fic and given it a very detailed beta - fixing punctuation, plot, spelling, and just generally making this so much more awesome.

Percival lay staring up at the ceiling, hearing the others breathing beside him. It wasn't easy, to listen to those breaths. But he understood that this was his life now. It felt unnatural to sleep in a bed beside someone. During the war, Theseus and Percival hadn't had a room, and had made do with whatever they could find. Jauncey had made it clear that if Percival was in a bed, he had better be there to be useful.

Newt and his brother were cuddled up together, and both were smiling. As Percival lay with his eyes closed, he heard something move towards him. He looked down to see a shape slithering across the sheets, and reached down to bump his hand on familiar scales. The occamy grew, draped across his legs, the weight soothing; it grounded him. He tickled her softly, wondering how she had got out of the case. Her forked tongue brushed his palm, and he began to drift off to sleep.

He could hear the breathing even in his sleep, but as he rested, the two heartbeats faded into one, and he felt Jauncey's hand run up his side, pressing him down into the mattress. _His back burned from curses he remembered only too well._  
"Did you manage to forget what I asked you to do my darling?" Jauncey whispered into his ear, and Percival cringed away.  
"No, sir," he murmured. "I just..."  
The excuses died on his lips. He knew what he had done wrong. He had been working hard, cleaning the house and making sure that there was food ready for Jauncey's return, but it wasn't good enough. His husband was a busy man, running international operations to prevent the spread of dark magic as the Chief of Magical Intelligence. He deserved the best; he deserved to come home to a meal on the table. But Percival had been tired. He'd been so tired that he had fallen asleep in the kitchen, as he had been scrubbing the floor. That was how Jauncey had found him, face down with his eyes closed. A kick had woken him.  
"So what is it going to be?" Jauncey asked. Percival gagged, nearly vomiting, his heart racing. It was always the anticipation that was worst. He sobbed softly, biting his lip in an attempt to stay quiet, knowing that he couldn't be heard to cry. Crying was weakness. Jauncey would only hurt him more if he was weak. The hand on his side edged down, and he bit his lip, waiting. 

A hand gripped his shoulder, and someone shook him. He whimpered softly, cringing away from the contact even as his mind reminded him that he was meant to stay still. He was Jauncey's property; if his husband wanted something, he was there to provide it. He knew that – nevertheless, he still couldn't avoid flinching from the touch. That was the very weakness that meant he would get tortured, more often than not.

"Perce!"  
A voice startled him, and he looked up to see two sets of eyes staring down at him. He whimpered again, trying to work out who they were. Neither of them looked familiar. He stayed tense for a moment.

"Perce, you are in New York. You are in MACUSA," the taller man told him, and he frowned up at him.  
"Theseus?" he asked, and then glanced at the other man. "Newt?"  
Theseus helped him to sit up, as Newt guided the occamy onto his lap. He blinked up at the two of them, still feeling a little disorientated by the entire situation.

"You're safe," Theseus promised. "We're here. You are safe. He's dead."  
Percival nodded, ducking his head slightly. He couldn't help feeling ashamed at the fact he had asked to sleep in a bed with them, then found it overwhelming. He hated the person that Jauncey had made him, the man he was still slipping into.  
"It's alright," Theseus’s voice was tender. "You want me to take first watch?"

"There's no point you not sleeping."  
"I will if it'll make you feel safe," Theseus said simply. He squeezed Percival's hand, and Percival squeezed back.  
"I can watch first?" Percival offered and Theseus smiled, then shook his head.  
"Rest, Perce, I'll be here. And so will Newt, and your occamy. Nowhere safer in the world."  
"Thank you," Percival closed his eyes, and felt Theseus resting his hand on his shoulder.

That touch was grounding, and it stopped him from slipping back into nightmares. It reassured him to have that gentle touch, same as it had in the trenches with the bombs exploding and shrapnel falling. There was nothing in it that reminded him of Jauncey. Jauncey had never showed him any tenderness. He felt the darkness of sleep surround him, but this time it didn't feel like a threat. It was like coming home.

***

"Here."  
Newt sat down on the bed, holding out a plate of food. Percival reached out to take it from his hand, and noticed that there was a cup of coffee for him on his bedside table. Theseus was already sipping his own.  
"I appreciate this."  
"You need to eat," Newt shrugged. "You don't need to worry. We won't ever withold food from you, and anyone who did... anyone who did was a monster."

Percival ate his breakfast, then helped Newt with the morning chores in the case. It was relaxing, the two of them walking through the different habitats together. There were many creatures that needed care, but Percival was learning a little more each day. 

When he climbed out of the case, he found both Seraphina and Theseus waiting, sipping what appeared to be tea.  
"Tea, Seraphina?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"According to your husband, coffee is an abomination. I do hope that he hasn't inflicted such views on you."  
"He's just messing with you," Percival said with a faint smile. "And tea isn't that bad."  
"You've spent too much time in England, apparently," she teased, and Percival felt a little calmer as Theseus poured him a cup and handed it over to him.

"What are you doing here?"  
"I'm here so that we can go and see Secretary Piers together," Seraphina answered. "You and Theseus are going to lead the discussion. But I'll be there – to prove the force of MACUSA is behind you."

Theseus sighed.  
"The problem is, Percival, there's very little we can accuse him of. We both know what he has done. But that in itself..." he sighed. "We can't punish him for that. But like you said, we can tell him he will be watched."  
"That's all I want," Percival agreed, and Theseus nodded.  
"I'll see if I can get you that apology."

Walking to the cell, between Theseus and Seraphina, Percival felt almost safe. It was like being surrounded by the support that he needed.

Secretary Piers was sunk down in the bed, his head down. He looked up as they arrived, raising his head and crossing his arms, glaring up at them.  
"On your feet," Seraphina demanded, and he stumbled up. Percival was a little surprised to see how small Piers looked. In his nightmares, Piers looked like a giant, looked powerful. Here, he was just an old man who had been trapped by his own past mistakes.

"Hello," Theseus spoke, stepping forwards. "I want to talk to you about what happened last night."  
"I accused him of being a traitor," Piers snapped. "Because he isn't welcome. Everyone knows he spreads his legs for anyone who asks, but you would have thought that working as a whore for Grindelwald would have been beneath him." His words conveyed the same superiority he had always shown – that he was above everyone else just because of who he knew.

Percival raised his head and gazed straight forwards. He wasn't afraid. Piers seemed to notice that after a moment, backing away a little. Theseus smirked.  
"My husband is a respected member of society, which is more than could be said of you."

Piers opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Percival smiled a little at that, even as Theseus continued.  
"Your past actions show your foolishness, but your words last night show that you are still making mistakes. We can't hold you for this any longer. But after today, well..." he rested a hand on Percival's hip, the touch a little soothing. "I want you to know that MACUSA are watching you. If you make one mistake, they will not hesitate to destroy you," Theseus's words were accompanied by a brilliant smile. "And do not hesitate to wonder – you will make a mistake. And MACUSA will be waiting." 

"Thank you, Auror Scamander," Seraphina stepped forwards. "The two of you have better things to do than worry with men like this. But as you said, I will keep an eye on him."  
She went to unlock the cell door.

As that happened, Piers stepped forwards. He said nothing, not even looking towards Percival. Percival could feel himself trembling, but Theseus's hand was resting on his, still grounding him, still keeping him safe. 

Realising that he was no long frightened of Piers was a surprise. He had Theseus and he had Newt, and Jauncey was dead. Piers wasn't, but he was no longer the looming monster from his nightmares. For the first time since the war, he felt something almost like hope within his chest when he looked at Theseus. It seemed like they could have a future, free of Jauncey’s shadow.  
"Busy day today?" he asked Theseus.  
"Going to work. I've got to consult with Henery about some smuggling that's been happening. Newt's going to help."  
"And me?"  
"Whatever you want," Theseus shrugged. "Go and do whatever you'd like. I think Seraphina would like to see you."


	19. Sunlight

Even knowing he had his husbands' permission to see Seraphina, Percival still felt a little anxious approaching her office. He pushed that fear down inside of him. Whatever happened, it would be good to see his friend without being supervised.

Images from the cells kept replaying in his mind. His thoughts caught on how Theseus had stood up for him. There had been no apology, but Percival hadn't expected one. Secretary Piers was too self-centered and smug to apologise to anyone. Just knowing that the man would be watched for any further wrongdoing was comfort enough. 

For Theseus, nothing had changed since the war. He had been an idealist then. It was part of what had drawn Percival to him on the battlefield. He could still see that sense of morality shining in Theseus's eyes, the same as he could see kindness and affection in Newt's. It was hard to accept that someone might care for him.

He knocked smartly on the President's door. In the past, he would have simply walked in, knowing he didn't need permission. He was less certain now.  
"Come in?" Seraphina's voice called out clearly, and he pushed open the door, stepping inside after a moment.  
She smiled to see him, waving her wand to call over a pair of comfortable chairs to the fire, and going to sit down. "Percival... It's good to see you."  
"You saw me this morning."  
"It's good to see the real you." She waved him into his seat, and leaned forwards, their knees almost brushing. He reached out, taking one of her delicate hands between both of his.

"I'm here," he promised her, and there was a moment's pause before she nodded.  
"How is it?"  
"It isn't so bad," Percival said, feeling compelled to defend his husbands. "Newt loves his creatures, and I'm learning a lot from them. Theseus seems to have married me mainly to annoy one of his coworkers." He could see the concern shining in her eyes, the worry he was just putting on a brave face the way he had before. "They haven't made me do anything. They feed me. They haven't cursed or beaten me. Everything is fine. I even have my own room."

"Well that's damning... You're telling me that the men who kidnapped you from your home and from your friends haven't been actively torturing you?" She glared at the fire, and it flickered for a moment, before she settled back into her chair and patted his hand. "Because if that's the best you can say... your boundaries are so low." She sighed, and Percival nodded in agreement.

They both knew this was an improvement.  
"Give me a little longer," he said softly. "I think... I can't be certain. But I think this might just be able to work," Percival glanced down at the desk as he said the words, almost afraid that voicing them aloud would mean that what he said was false. "It's not what I wanted, but I believe they are good men."

"Many people think that Adam Jauncey was a good man, too," Seraphina answered, and for a moment her eyes were full of pain. "And a lot of people would still think that if they knew what had happened. Your marriage, your sacrifice, averted a war that would have exposed us. That man might have been scum, but he saved our world from being revealed. To most people-"  
"I don't care about most people," Percival interrupted. "I care about you. And I care about myself. I care about my aurors. And I think..." he hesitated, then rushed through the words. "I think that in time, I might be able to care about Newt and Theseus. I at least need a chance to find out."

Seraphina nodded and stood from her seat, leaning over to wrap her arms around Percival. He returned the embrace, clinging to her for a moment before he released her.  
"Just know that if you message me and say that you need to get out... I'll do everything I can to get you safe. If I have to declare war on Britain-"  
"Always so dramatic," Percival teased. "I remember you getting fired up when we were in Ilvermorny, demanding what was right. No one could ever refuse you."  
He paused. "Do you have any more firewhiskey, or did I clear you out last time?"  
"We've got some," she answered, calling over two glasses with a twirl of her wand. "Do they let you keep the wand? Or is it..." she shrugged, and he shook his head.  
"They let me keep it."  
She squared her jaw and nodded, pouring two shots of the drink.

***  
Seraphina had meetings of course, and Percival wanted to look over the work the aurors were doing. But sharing a space was familiar, and so were the smiles she shot at him – affection and concern warring in her eyes.

He wondered if he was going to be found. He felt sick at the thought of it – wanting to test the boundaries. He could stay here for a little while longer. See if Theseus found him, see what punishment awaited him. Find out just how long the leash he had been given was.

It was getting dark when he gave up, no longer able to stand waiting. Seraphina glanced at him, and he could see concern in her eyes.  
"I'd best go," he murmured. "I'll write you."  
"You'd better." She stood up as he did, walking around the table and embracing him tightly for a few moments. He clung to her. "If you call, MACUSA will find you."  
"Let me try and make this work. Better me than a war. And they've been treating me well enough."

"You undervalue yourself." She opened the door with a wave of her wand, and Percival walked away. He didn't look back at her.

He made his way to the rooms that Theseus had been allocated and knocked on the door. There was a momentary pause before it was pulled open, and he found himself smiling to see Theseus standing there, his hair sticking up in odd angles. Newt was sitting on the sofa behind him.  
"Good day?"  
"Yes," Percival said honestly. "You?"  
"It'll do. Think we've pretty much done all we can here. We should go back soon. Newt misses his home, and I've done everything they asked me to," Theseus smiled a little as he explained, and Percival nodded, trying to hide the fear that sunk into his chest. He'd known that this was only a temporary reprieve.

"When?"  
"Tomorrow morning? Newt's determined to bring us all some pastries for breakfast. And you can say any goodbyes."  
"I've already said them," Percival murmured. Theseus looked at him for a moment then nodded.  
"Good to share the bed tonight?"  
"Thanks." Percival nodded his agreement.

"Go out for dinner or eat here?" Theseus asked. Percival shrugged, even though he didn't really want to go out. Theseus shrugged in response. "I'll cook, you and Newt can check on his pets."  
"They're still not pets," Newt muttered, but he was already opening the suitcase. Percival climbed down with him, and wasn't surprised to find an occamy already waiting for him. He reached out to tickle her under the chin, and saw Newt smiling at him shyly.

"Thank you for this," Newt said softly. "I know you don't have to do this, but-"  
"I like it," Percival said honestly. "So what's your plan for the morning? Theseus mentioned pastry?"  
"Jacob, my friend... he makes good pastries, they look like my creatures. He... doesn't remember all of it. But he's starting to remember, and I like seeing him."

Newt looked so hopeful when he said that that Percival couldn't help smiling.  
"What is your favourite?" Newt asked. "I could never pick. But you probably have one?"  
"The occamy," Percival answered, and Newt smiled.  
"You're her favourite as well, you know?" Newt asked, and Percival found himself smiling back. It was weird to find that he felt like he was home around the creatures and his husbands. At least while he was in MACUSA and things were familiar.

He climbed out of the case with his occamy wrapped around his shoulders. Theseus raised an eyebrow and laughed a little. The meal was easy enough – Newt filling the silence with discussion of all of his creatures. More than once he smiled over at Percival, explaining how well Percival was doing. Theseus nodded, interested.  
"It won't be long," Theseus explained. "First chance I get to bring you back to your friends, we'll take it."  
"Thank you," Percival answered.

He showered before the others and lay down in the bed wearing grey pyjamas. Newt and Theseus soon joined him, having washed together. Newt curled up on one side of the bed, leaving space in the middle for Theseus. For a few moments there was silence between them before Percival built up the strength he needed to ask the question that had been bothering him.  
"Theece?" It was an old nickname, not one for a husband but for a friend.  
"Yeah?"  
"If I have magic... if you let me use my wand... what am I meant to do during the day? I'll have the housework done in an hour or so-" 

"You can come to work with me," Theseus said, and Percival looked up at him in shock. For a second Theseus's hand rested on his shoulder, before Theseus seemed to think better of it. "I can't promise you'll get any of the interesting stuff. But you're a skilled auror. And you deserve better than relying on us for everything."

"Thank you," Percival breathed, silence falling over them.

***

Returning to the Scamanders' house had been easier than he expected. He had his own bed back. The bundimun had stubbornly made no attempt to leave, but appeared to have spread across the corner it was in. Newt perched on a chair, leaning up to pat it and feed it extra sawdust.

Percival was surprised to see it lean into his touch a little. He had always thought that bundimuns were merely pests, but this one seemed genuinely happy at Newt's return. That night he slept in his bed, knowing he was meant to stay there. He pulled “Shadows in the Dark: An Auror’s Fight Against Lethifolds” from the shelf and began to read for a short while, and then cleaned the house with his magic. He prepared breakfast for the three of them – remembering once again that Newt wouldn't eat meat. Theseus smiled at him, muttering thanks.

It was after breakfast that reality returned to him, and he had to face the rest of the world. Newt remained with the creatures at home, while Theseus and Percival went to report to the Ministry in the progress made in America.

Approaching the building, Percival couldn't help thinking of the marriage. Of how he had been marched in, terror swallowing him, to carry out the contract signed in his own blood. He knew that not all of the British wizards would be as understanding of everything that he had done as Theseus was. He fell into place a couple of steps behind Theseus, gaze on the floor. He tried to ignore any murmurs that followed him. Theseus led him straight to the Minister's Office.   
Theseus knocked on the door, waiting to be summoned inside. Percival glanced around him, focusing on not attempting apparition. They had barriers that would splinch anyone who tried.

"Come in," the Minister called, and the two of them walked in. Theseus reached out to grab Percival's hand, guiding him forwards.


	20. Working

The Minister continued to fill in the forms he was doing for a little longer. Percival could recognise an obvious power play when he saw it. It still made his skin itch. The fact the man wrote using a quill wasn't helping – Percival found himself remembering the only time he had used a quill, cursing himself to the marriage that he was in now. At the time it had felt like a fate worse than death. Thinking of it now, he supposed that it wasn't; despite his initial fears, the relationship with the Scamander brothers turned out much better than he'd ever expect, and without doubt it was a fate much better than being executed.

That realisation was almost startling, but just as he was beginning to consider it, the Minister glanced up from his work.  
"Scamander. What are you doing here?"  
"Sorry for the interruption, Minister. I wanted to ask your permission to bring Percival to work, to help me. Initially for the American reports, and then later – well, he was an auror. He could be useful."

"And I'm meant to accept that? What's next, the other aurors bringing in prostitutes?"  
Percival bit his lip, but noticed that Theseus's knuckles had turned white from how hard he was gripping the table. Theseus was clearly struggling to stay civil; after a few deep breaths he smiled at the Minister and shook his head.  
"I'm merely asking that you respect Percival's ability. He has been an excellent auror for MACUSA for over seven years, on a number of challenging cases. I served alongside him during the war, and I can tell you he is a remarkably talented duellist. Furthermore, he has inside knowledge on the Americans, and while we work on this he can consider who best to cultivate relationships with. If you allowed him to work with my aurors, he might prove invaluable."

The Minister looked Percival over with an evaluating eye, lips pursed as he considered his options. Percival half expected to be denied outright.  
Theseus paused. For a moment he looked as if he wanted to say something more, but apparently he changed his mind.  
"His papers," the Minister demanded.  
Theseus reached into his pocket, and pulled out a mokeskin bag. He reached within it and withdrew a pile of sheets, handing them to the Minister. Looking closer, Percival was shocked to see his MACUSA-issued auror certificate from November 1918, a couple of reports, his training record – its cover still charred from the Fiendfyre that had been released by a prisoner in the auror offices, and other things he didn’t immediately recognise. Seraphina must have given them to Theseus with this in mind. He wasn’t surprised that his husbands were doing things behind his back, not after everything Jauncey had done, but was startled that Theseus had bothered bringing the files here.

Theseus clearly wanted him to work alongside him. It was another sign of how different he was from Jauncey. When Theseus looked at him, it was as though he respected Percival. Hearing someone arguing for him was startling, leaving him feeling almost dizzy.

The Minister skimmed through the files.  
"Everything seems in order," he said with a shade of disappointment in his voice. "You need to keep him supervised, Auror Scamander. I trust he is well-disciplined enough not to cause any trouble... I don't want to have to explain this to anyone."  
"My husband knows better than to disobey me," said Theseus, squeezing Percival's hand as if to reassure him. Taking a moment to be brave, Percival squeezed back.  
"Well then, Mister Scamander, welcome on board. I hope that your work with us will be successful."

That name still felt wrong, but he bowed his head and managed a weak smile at the other man.  
"Thank you, sir." He was a little in awe of how the British aurors were able to say sentences that should have been compliments and turn them into insults. 

Theseus headed out of the room, rolling his eyes once they were free of the office. "Sorry, that was almost intolerable, wasn't it?"

Percival nodded and sighed.  
"Is this... what the rest of my life is going to be like?"  
"Not all British wizards are like that. And we don't have the same separation of Magical and Muggle that you do. There's actually quite a lot of liberalism, once you know where to look. Past experience has taught me that where to look is nowhere near Minister Fawley. Once Nott brings that book out, we can see what he's said. Anyone called a blood traitor or similar will be a good place to start."  
Percival took a deep breath, and Theseus continued.  
“Newt was insistent that he would quit if we didn’t have you. I’m glad that those reports persuaded Minister Fawley, or we would have had quite an argument on our hands.”

Percival nodded slowly. It was still hard to comprehend the emphasis the British put on their blood and breeding, but thankfully his husbands didn't seem to care. Theseus was grinning at him, the same stupid smile that had helped him stay alive for so long during the war.  
"I'll take you to the Auror Office," Theseus offered, striding ahead. Percival paused only for a moment before trailing along in his wake.

He missed his team. He missed Henery and Starling bickering over practicalities, Fontaine's habit of doodling during meetings with the tip of his wand, even Goldstein's poorly filled in paperwork. He'd known where he stood with his team, which was more than could be said for the situation now. He would relearn, but for the moment he felt totally lost and rather sick.

He had a new team now – a team to whom he was Theseus's husband, rather than an auror in his own right. He made himself be brave. He'd survived worse than this before; he would stay strong now. The aurors looked up as he walked in, and Percival tried to smile at them even though it felt forced and unnatural. Theseus stepped forwards.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Percival Scamander, my husband. I know some of you have met him before, but for those that haven't, here he is. He's a skilled wizard and saved my life countless times during the war. He’s got the Minister’s permission to be working with us, and seven years service for MACUSA. All of us were new here once, I hope you’ll show him the respect he deserves." His little speech over and done with, he walked to his desk. Percival trailed after, feeling like an object on display for the others to gaze at and judge. He was fairly certain that he deserved no respect here, and that several of the aurors would know that.

The aurors didn't even attempt to hide their stares to start with. Percival reached for his wand, his fingers wrapped around the solid wood. It was a connection to his past life, a reminder of who he was and who he had been. He set it down on his desk, so that he could reach it if it was needed. Theseus stared at the paperwork that had piled up on his desk, digging around for the piece he needed.  
“At least ours isn’t alive,” he muttered with a smile, catching sight of a form and waving it with a flourish of triumph. He handed Percival a quill, then seemed to realise and handed him a pen instead.  
Percival nodded his thanks.  
“These are the forms all the new aurors fill out, we need you properly on the system. You should probably put Newt as next of kin – I’ll be on missions with you anyway.” 

Percival began to fill in the paperwork as Theseus clattered around in the background, returning with a few reports.  
“I heard that the Americans have a simplified report system, so if you could look these over…” Theseus paused. “And these are standard regulations and things. And here are some of the cases I’ve been working on recently.” 

Percival nodded, feeling slightly like he was being buried alive under a mountain of paperwork. Still, he’d inducted new aurors in MACUSA when he was younger, so he knew that this was normal. Painfully boring and long-winded, but normal.

Time passed, and Percival battled with the giant pile of paperwork, getting it back under control. He had filled in the original form, and was flicking through the recent reports when Theseus turned to him.  
“Come here, I’ll show you our filing – unlike in MACUSA, our paperwork doesn’t file itself.”

There was a whole other set of rules to memorise for the filing, different rooms for different cases. Percival thought fondly of tapping his wand on a report and seeing it scurry out of the door. But he was learning; Theseus handed him a list to help him. That was a kindness Jauncey never would have shown. They returned to their desk, and Percival resumed looking at the files.

"Can you write down what you think would be useful of the American system?"  
Percival raised an eyebrow, even as he felt sick for the silent act of rebellion. It wasn't right to disobey his husband, but nor could he give up his country's secrets. Theseus shrugged.  
"Nothing that you feel is a betrayal, Perce, I wouldn't ask you for that. I just would like an idea of which aurors are most concerned with which issues, who would be best to have at your back at a firefight, things like that. And any other suggestions you might have."

Percival nodded quickly, considering the case he had been gifted. That kind of thing would be useful for smuggling whole teams of aurors into buildings. Suggestions were easy. It was just the information about the American aurors which felt wrong. It was a reasonable request really, Percival knew that. 

He started to work on the notes, but there wasn't much he could say. Theseus was busy with his own paperwork, so Percival looked at the others sitting around the office. He recognised most of the aurors by reputation – Bulstrode, Abbot, and Nott were the ones who had attended his initial marriage. They were some of the strongest of purebloods, their family name strong enough to rival Percival's own. He thought he spotted a Potter that he had met at a meeting somewhere, and the female auror by the teapot was probably a Prewett based on their red hair, a white dog at her side. British auror families were fairly incestuous - but then as a descendant of one of the Twelve, Percival could hardly hold that against them.

Prewett was carrying a tray around the office. She placed cups of tea in front of each of the aurors, finally bringing over one for Theseus, who reached out to ruffle the dog’s fur. It leaned into the touch, tail wagging. She ignored Percival, walking away.  
"Thank you, Scáthach," Theseus said with a brilliant smile, then put the paperwork to one side. He offered the cup of tea to Percival, but Percival shook his head. He knew it wasn't meant for him.

Theseus looked over the few notes that Percival had done, and he nodded.  
"Thanks. These will help."  
Percival doubted that – he was fairly sure he was just being kept busy by Theseus so that he didn't cause trouble. But being allowed to work alongside him was better than being left at home with a list of chores that he would never be able to complete.

Bulstrode walked over to Theseus after a few hours, as Percival finished reading over the last of the reports he had been given.  
"You still up for dueling practice later?"  
"Yeah. Will it be okay that Percival watches?" Theseus asked with a smile.  
Bulstrode snorted and nodded.  
"Sure, whatever you want, boss."

The promise of dueling seemed to brighten the rest of the day; the aurors seemed livelier. Seeing Theseus in an office with the rest of them, laughing and joking – it was strange and hard to understand. But he could see that their friendship there was good for all of them. Theseus explained that they had a duelling session twice a week to keep in shape, and Percival could see the benefits, deciding to mention it to Fontaine the first chance he got.

He had been friends with his own aurors back then. He just hadn't realised it until he lost them. He regretted not wearing his cufflinks that day, the reminder of what he had once had on his wrists.

When the team all finished their paperwork they headed to the dueling range. They were laughing together, and Percival was on the outside of it, knowing he didn't belong. He tried to remind himself this wasn't the same as Jauncey's friends getting drunk together... This was the British team practicing their work. 

They all lined up and Theseus started off by dueling Nott. The others were watching so that they could advise afterwards.  
Nott was struggling. He was left-handed – which was normally a strength for dueling a right-handed opponent like Theseus. But he had been taught to duel like a right-handed wizard. As the fight became more intense, Nott started to move quicker, the actions easier, but when Theseus backed up a little, he fell back on his training and his moves became less accurate.

When the duel was finished, the aurors clapped and the next pair stepped forwards to take their own turn. Percival approached Nott.  
"What?" Nott spat the word, eyes dark with anger.  
"You need to be more confident." Percival sighed. "You're good with your left hand, but you need to trust in your movements." He pulled his wand out, trying to demonstrate what he meant.

Nott pushed past him to talk to Abbott who had been designated to watch him. Abbott just looked at Percival in mild horror, his gaze fixated on his hand.  
"You've got a wand?"  
"He has a wand," Theseus answered. "He is a wizard, and he's good at what he does. He's got a wand so that he can help us."  
There was some muttering at that, with Bulstrode's words louder than the rest.  
"We're stuck babysitting the boss's catamite."  
Percival glanced around, but Theseus was already readying for the next fight, instructing Prewett and no response was given.  
The next duel began, and they all focused on the fight.

***

Theseus was muttering to himself as he handed Percival a cup of tea across the table once they got home.  
"Blood purity is ridiculous sometimes." He sighed. "Sorry about that. It isn't a mark of talent."  
"I'm glad that you're letting me come to work," Percival answered, and Theseus reached out to squeeze his shoulder.  
"You don't have to be. It's good to have the company and a fresh pair of eyes. And you're a good auror, Percival."  
"They don't think I am," Percival murmured, and Theseus shrugged.  
"They'll see."

"They will. Tina speaks highly of you," Newt explained as he arrived on scene, reaching over to steal a sip of his brother's tea. He dropped an occamy onto Percival's lap, where it promptly grew to the length of his arm and snuggled up against him. Percival nodded and smiled up at him.  
"Good day?" he asked Newt, and Newt nodded quickly.  
"All good, other than one sulking occamy. I think you should take her to work tomorrow."

Percival glanced up at Theseus, and Theseus snorted.  
"Look, it's hardly the first time a creature's been on the loose in the Auror Office. If you keep her in a pocket I see no reason not to take her, Scáthach has her dog – it’s pretty useful. You’d be amazed how many nogtail outbreaks we have on farms – Luther and Pascoe are currently away working on some." 

Percival nodded slowly, making a mental note to take the occamy and his cufflinks to work the next day. That evening he wrote a note to Seraphina.  
_I'm helping Theseus with some work. Things are getting a little easier. I hope you're alright. Tell my team I miss them, and tell Fontaine they do regular duelling practice here and it’s good for them._  
He laid down and tried to sleep, watching the bundimun slowly creeping across the ceiling.


	21. Missions Managed

_Jauncey pushed open the door, the smell of alcohol thick on his breath. Percival tried not to flinch; flinching made it worse. There was nothing that Jauncey would ask of him that wasn't his right as Percival's husband. If Percival refused, he would be humiliating MACUSA, humiliating the family name. He didn't want to let it happen. He couldn't not. Feeling as though his body was being moved for him, he took a step forwards._  
The first thing Percival realised upon waking was that there was a weight lying across his legs. Cracking his eyes open revealed an occamy, her amber eyes gazing down at him. Her tongue flicked out at his hair, and he managed a slight smile.  
"Thank you," he murmured. It was still dark outside. 

An occamy should probably have worried him, but instead he found her presence a comfort. While he was unable to snatch any more sleep, he did at least relax a little before he headed down to make breakfast, remembering that Newt didn't want to eat any meat. 

"You didn't have to do that, Perce," Theseus announced as he walked into the room, and Percival swallowed slightly. It took a moment for him to realise the truth – he hadn't done it because he felt he had to, but because he wanted to make a meal for the two of them.  
"I don't mind," Percival answered, plating up three portions without hesitating now. He knew that he was allowed to eat, at least unless Theseus said otherwise.

"Think you can face coming in to work again?" Theseus asked as Newt arrived. Percival nodded, before becoming momentarily distracted by the fact there was a yellow ball of fluff nestled in Newt's hair.  
"Newt. Puffskein," Theseus told his brother, then carried on the conversation as though nothing had happened while Newt carefully removed the creature from his hair and tried to look as though the entire thing was deliberate. 

"I have nearly finished the Grindelwald case, but there might be a few other investigations you can get involved in. Once Pascoe's back, I'll get her to explain the basics of our standard cases." Theseus ate, one hand reaching out to pet the demiguise, who had joined them at the breakfast table. "We'll get you out on proper missions soon."

***

"Could I incinerate this all?" Theseus asked, staring down at the mound of paperwork. Percival felt a twinge of sympathy – he knew from his own experience how easily case files could get out of control. But he smiled.  
"Only if you want to rewrite it," he teased, startled a moment later by the tone he had taken with the man who was, after all, his husband. Theseus just grinned.  
"I guess not, then. One day. One day we will find a way of doing all of this automatically and then I will have a bonfire of all the notes that I don't need to make." He sighed, and Percival rested a hand on his shoulder. 

Prewett wandered over, looking with interest at what Theseus was doing.  
"Hello, Scáthach," Theseus greeted her, staring at the paper and rubbing his forehead.  
"Do you mind if I borrow Scamander, sir?" she asked. Percival cringed inwardly at the name, reaching out to pat the head of the white hound that was always on her heels.  
"That's Annwyn," Prewett told him. "She's good at finding nogtail infestations and comes in surprisingly useful in duels."

Percival nodded and reached out to pat the creature. Annwyn responded by nuzzling into his hand, her tail wagging eagerly from side to side. Percival managed a smile at that.  
"Borrow away," Theseus murmured, tapping his quill on the paper and then quickly banishing the blot of ink that formed with a wave of his hand. "Just bring him back in one piece." 

"I thought he could help with the Liverpool case?" she suggested, and Theseus considered for a moment, then looked to Percival.  
"You've had practice with maps, right?" Theseus teased.  
"Yes." Percival remembered the trenches, the sprawling lines that snaked across the parchment. He thought of the maps that were central to MACUSA's operations, allowing them to monitor an area as large as the US, and of the maps he had seen of the continent of Europe. British cities were sprawling tangles, with the magical and No-Maj streets often overlapping in unnatural ways, but he could make sense of it. 

"Great," Theseus smiled, and it looked genuine. "Scáthach, show him what we've got so far."  
Prewett stood, and Percival followed her to her desk, aware of the solid weight of his occamy in his shirt pocket. It was clear she wasn’t feeling overly social – her dislike of the Ministry still stood. Prewett unrolled a map, tapping it with her wand to highlight different regions.  
"We've had several cases of Muggles using Amortentia recently, and a strong version of it. There've been some deaths."

Percival frowned a little. Amortentia was a powerful love potion, but he hadn't heard of it being fatal before.  
Prewett seemed to realise his confusion, and explained.  
"Amortentia causes obsession," she began, as though explaining the potion to a child, although it was information he already knew. "The recipient cannot focus on anything other than their devotion for the giver. But when it's used among magical users, we use a couple of drops a day, hidden within food. The muggles aren't just receiving the potion. They're administering it as well, and they're making their targets overdose. Here are the cases-" A dozen blue spots appeared on the map, close to the docks. "From this we presume that the potion is being imported. But we need to speak to the people buying it, find out who is selling it and stop it before there are more deaths."

Percival examined the map closely, watching as wizarding streets were highlighted. There was a wizarding wharf close to the dock, and near three of the cases of the poisoning.  
"Which were fatal?"  
A tap of Prewett's wand, and four of the dots glowed red. Percival pointed to the one nearest the wharf. With the concentration there it would be a good place to start looking.  
"Could you tell me about this?"  
Prewett handed over a pile of papers.  
"This is what we've got on the case so far. It's number five."

***

"I still don't see why we have to babysit the boss's husband," Bulstrode muttered under his breath as a group of them made their way along the platform, all wearing their Muggle outfits. Prewett was in front, wearing a loose and fairly shapeless dress which she could enchant in an emergency, her dog still beside her. Abbot, Bulstrode, Nott, Theseus and Percival were all wearing slightly shabby suits – not ragged enough to draw glares, but not tidy enough to gain attention.

"Percival is here because he has a year's more experience than you," Theseus snapped. "And because he's going to be helpful to have on side."  
Bulstrode raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak.  
Percival walked alongside Theseus as they made their way to the carriage. Once they had some privacy, Theseus locked the door and cast silencing spells so no one could disturb them.

"Anyway," Prewett pulled a large book from a pocket in her dress and began skimming through. "I want him to come with me when I speak to the Muggle woman."  
"Me?" Percival asked, a little startled.  
"Sure. Let the others do some digging, and we'll go straight to the source." She smiled a little as Annwyn settled at her feet, and Percival reached out to stroke the dog's ear. "You're alright to pretend to be my brother, aren't you?"

Percival nodded, and read over the files again, staring at the stationary image of a woman. She was the one they would be speaking to, Charlotte Hailey, who had recently lost her husband due to Amortentia poisoning – leaving her a widow with three young children. 

Percival turned his attention to out of the window. He hadn't been on a train since the war, and those trains had been crowded and loud. This was different – but then, everyone apart from him in the carriage was a pureblood.

***

Arriving into Liverpool, he followed Prewett down dirty streets where No-Maj children played, and past red-brick houses that layered up close together.  
"This one." Prewett pointed at a particularly crowded house, with six or seven children in the yard outside. She approached it cautiously, but Percival could already see how her dress was similar to the other people here.

"You lost?" A woman's voice rang out, and he turned to see Mrs Hailey standing on the steps, dressed in black, staring down at Prewett. "We don't often get new people around here.  
"Looking for someplace to stay," Prewett answered, her voice softened now by an accent that Percival didn't recognise.

"I got a room." She held out her hand. "Missus Hailey, but you can call me Charlotte. You two married? I don’t let unmarried couples stay."  
"He's my brother," Prewett answered, and Percival nodded. "My husband's stayed up in Edinburgh at the moment..."  
"You best come in then." The No-Maj brought them into her home. Soon they were perched on wooden stools, sipping some tea from stained mugs. "I got a spare room upstairs in the attic."

"You on your own here?" Prewett prompted.  
"Me and the kiddies," she answered. "Lost my husband last month."  
"Oh..." Prewett frowned, then bit her lip. "Look, can I ask you something?"  
"Ask ahead, dear."  
"I was told... that you might know how to help me and my husband fix things – he's not been interested recently. It's like... I might as well be dead to him."  
"No," Mrs Hailey snapped, and folded her arms, glaring at Prewett viciously. "Don't let yourself go thinking that way, girl. There might be men round here who say they can help you, but they're demons."  
"Demons?" Prewett prompted.

"Told me if I gave my husband some chocolates he'd love me again. He wasn't the same since the war, spent most of his wages on drink, and I just wanted to make things better..." She swallowed. "So I bought them with money I'd pilfered from his wage packet, and... and I got them. Let him eat the chocolates... First night it was great, we were a real family again, and I think he left me a little one..." Her hand rested on her stomach. "But the next day he wouldn't do anything but follow me around. Wouldn't eat. Wouldn't drink. Tried to get him to go to the doctor's but we can't afford that... you promise me, girl, you can't do that to your husband. Don't let those demons take him from you."  
"Yes, ma'am," Prewett answered. "You go to the police?"  
"They'd say I poisoned him. And they'd be right," the woman whimpered, taking another sip of her drink to steady herself. "But you promise me, you stay away from those demons down at the docks."  
"Yes, ma'am, I promise. Can you show us the room now?"

***

Percival was relieved to see Theseus again after he had seen the spare bedroom, letting Prewett explain it wasn't suitable for them. They reported their discoveries, and the entire group headed to the docks, Bulstrode leading the way.

"So why'd you get Scamander to help?" Bulstrode asked Prewett, who laughed a little.  
"He's the only one here who didn't go to Midas. He's been living among Muggles his whole life. I could trust him not to do anything too odd."  
"Midas?" Percival questioned.  
"Midas Primary. Where the purest of the pure send their sons. But I didn't qualify, because it's for _English_ wizards only. Turns out a bunch of upper-class wizards with perfect manners and fuckall common sense." 

Percival managed to hide his smile at that, but it was a close run thing. Prewett grinned at him.  
"Why didn't we obliviate Mrs Hailey?" he asked her quietly.  
"It would do her no good," Prewett answered. "She's lost her husband. Lots of children, no idea where her husband has gone – and she knows nothing really. Only hints. We'll have one of the local witches keep an eye, but we won't obliviate her if we can avoid it." She shrugged her shoulders, reaching down to pat her dog's ears. "We aren't monsters."

Percival was used to the shining skyscrapers of New York. But the docks of Liverpool were different – brick colossi that towered over the ships. No-Majs were hard at work, bustling around, dirtier than in New York but with the same sense of purpose. Abbott drew something metallic from his pocket, using the shadow of an alleyway to hide it as it showed him which way to go, glowing brilliantly to show where magic had been cast.

"That warehouse." Abbott pointed across the dock to a door which the No-Majs didn't seem to notice. "It's there. That's one of the magical docks-" He led the way around the side of the water, and the others followed, drawing their wands. Prewett transfigured her dress into auror robes when they passed out of sight, and Theseus cast a few protective charms.

Bulstrode pushed past to open the door, sending up a shield charm as a spark of light went shooting towards him. The others burst inside to find a group of seven or eight wizards, all with wands drawn. Sparks went flying towards them, and Prewett blocked them.  
"They saw us coming," Nott muttered, flicking out his own magic, only to be knocked sideways by a blast. The British aurors and Percival formed a circle, and Theseus was beside Percival. Percival felt a momentary flutter of relief at knowing where Theseus was. He didn't want to lose track of him. 

The fighting was fast and dirty, the British aurors clearly used to working together. Percival provided blocking spells, not wanting to interfere with the attacks. Part of a wall crumbled from a misdirected spell, and Theseus broke off to cast a silencer and hide their work from those outside. Gradually the circle spread out into a line as they began to move their attackers towards a corner.  
A crash of lightning sparked across Percival's head and he spun around, seeing someone standing in the corner, sending another spell towards Nott. 

Percival reacted on instinct, blocking the spell. The force which hit him made him stumble backwards, and he was nearly hit, until Bulstrode sent him out of the way with another wave of his hand. He was feeling almost out of his depth with the speed that this was happening at but he was determined. He would prove to them what he was capable of. The British knew what they were doing – Prewett cast a body-bind on the straggler, and throwing him to one side. He wasn’t used to working with them, but that meant he was able to observe what was happening. He was the one to realise that the group was getting splintered.

Abbot had been backed into a corner, and Percival hurried over to help, disarming his opponent and knocking him unconscious. Abbot raised an eyebrow, blood trickling down his face.  
"I didn't need your help."  
"Scamander!" Prewett shouted, and he raced over to her, helping hold up a wall which was threatening to collapse. He managed to steady the falling masonry as Prewett provided cover. 

Once their attackers were captured, Theseus helped him to lower the masonry to the ground without anyone getting injured. Nott and Abbott were arranging for a transport for the prisoners.

Bulstrode walked over and held out his hand.  
"You did well."  
Percival smiled a little, and noticed that Prewett and Theseus were both grinning back at him.

Percival looked down and saw that the occamy had stuck its head from his pocket, looking around curiously. Percival laughed a little, crouching down to accio up a cockroach from the floor to feed it to her. He felt more alive than he had for a long time. 

When Theseus grabbed his hand, he leaned in towards him.


End file.
